From the Ashes
by dannyfranx
Summary: All Harry ever wanted was a normal life but as struggles with the fall out from the war, losing old friends and making new ones, he realises that normality is just a myth. Warning: Slash. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue When the Flames Die

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own Draco Malfoy. If I did then these book would never have been sold to children ;)

A/N: Things I should mention before we start. This story has been thoroughly researched and where possible all Cannon details are correct. The only ones that are not are those that have been purposefully changed to suit my plot.

Whilst this is a work in progress it has been fully completed and edited up to chapter eight and has chapter plans drawn up for well after that so no worries I will be sticking around

Beta for this story was the beautiful and inspiring saras_girl without whom I would have given up long ago

**Prologue**

When the Flames Die

_Today is the greatest day I've ever known_

_Can't wait for tomorrow I might not have that long_

_I tear my heart out, before I get out._

_Pink ribbon scars, that never forget_

_I've tried so hard to cleanse these regrets_

_My angel wing were bruised and restrained._

_My belly stings_

Today- Smashing Pumpkins

Saturday May 2nd 1998, Hogwarts Castle 6:30am

The flames around him rose higher and higher; the thick black smoke choking his lungs but still he walked forward. The wind shifted the cloud and before him he saw the Hogwarts grounds littered with the bodies of his fallen friends. The Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Tonks all lay there. Neville, the Creevey brothers, Seamus and Dean also lay amongst the dead. The ground was spongy beneath his feet; he looked down and the grass was red with the blood of both enemies and friends.

From the smoke, emerged a lone figure making his way towards him through the pre-dawn light; a strong breeze whipped his hair and his cloak billowed out to the side. The smoke, the breeze, the glow from the fire all compiled to give the whole scene a strange somnambular feel. He raised his wand as he watched the figure approach but whoever it was didn't react. They simply kept walking towards him, their pace steady. Now he could make out light blond hair and a tall, lithe figure and recognition finally kicked in.

Malfoy. The two stopped not six feet from each other.

"So you did it then?" Malfoy's voice was barely above a whisper but it felt like he was saying it directly into Harry's ear, even so far as breath ghosting over his neck.

"I did."

Malfoy finally looked at him and held his gaze. He felt his chest might burst. Tears ran from silver eyes and platinum hair whipped about Draco's face. A smudge of soot marked the pale skin on his left cheek and a trickle of blood, from a gash above his eyebrow, stood out in stark contrast.

"So what now?" Draco asked as Phoenix song began to resonate and dawn crept over the horizon.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, the dream still burnt into his mind. He took a couple of deep calming breaths, willing himself not to throw up. His breathing calmed slightly as he realised the extremes his subconscious had gone to regarding the survival rate of his friends. They weren't all dead. Just a lot of them he thought morosely.

Throwing himself back against the pillows, he glanced at his watch. He was disgusted when he realised that he had not yet been asleep for two hours which, considering he had just had the most exhausting day of his life, was not even close to being sufficient. Closing his eyes again, he hoped he might drop back off but luck, it would seem, was no longer with him.

Malfoy's parting words echoed through his thoughts.

"_What now?"_

This was a very pertinent question. Somehow, Harry was still alive which was, in itself, surprising. But now he was beginning to realise that this phenomenon carried with it a whole host of other problems and responsibilities. This morning he had walked into the Forbidden Forest with every intention of dying for his cause, of sacrificing himself so that his friends could live on and be free.

He had imagined that today would bring a reunion with his parents, and Sirius, and Remus. That he would watch over his friends as they went on, without him continuously dragging them into trouble. It had never entered his comprehension that being the Master of Death would give him a degree of perpetuity. On reflection he realised that it was somewhat asinine of him not to have considered this as a possibility. Returning from death was starting to present him with challenges and his mind was refusing to still itself.

The idea of living, really living, was starting to present more responsibilities than he had previously thought possible. The most obvious of these was Teddy Lupin. He hadn't agreed lightly to become the child's Godfather. Admittedly, he had been in something akin to shock when he had assumed the responsibility but he more than most knew how important this role was, especially in the middle of a war.

He shivered as he realised just how similar Teddy's start in life would be to his own. But Teddy would have an advantage; he had a grandmother who would love him, not resent him as Harry's own Aunt had done. He would have a Godfather who was there and not rotting in a cell in Azkaban. He was determined that he would be there for the boy as he grew up and help Mrs Tonks in any way he could. Still sleep eluded him.

His thoughts wandered to Ginny and how she had looked stooping over that girl in the grounds with words of comfort on her lips, her fierceness as she had battled against Bellatrix Lestrange, eyes flashing with passion and intent. How small and fragile she had appeared as she leant against her mother's shoulder in the Great Hall. He already knew that the longing he had felt for her had dissipated and left in its place admiration, respect and a love that was entirely fraternal.

He had expected this outcome for some time now, ever since the dreams had begun around Christmas. He would now have to tell her that they wouldn't be getting back together and he could only hoped that she wouldn't take it too hard. This train of thought was of no comfort to him, and allowing it space in his head did nothing to help him back to sleep. He sat up again and swung his legs off the bed, inhaling sharply when his feet came into contact with the frigid stone floor. He may as well get up. He could go down stairs start to help with the clean up; hopefully he would sleep better in his own bed at Grimmauld tonight.

There was going to be so much to do in the aftermath. There would be funerals to plan, to attend, Death Eaters to punish. Suddenly the image of Malfoy swam in front of his eyes unbidden; his attention fell upon the ten inch long hawthorn and unicorn hair wand that had been hastily discarded on his nightstand and an unhappy reality dawned on him. He was the only one who knew how Draco and his Mother had helped. The only one who knew that Draco had tried to defect last year on the Astronomy Tower and had, from what Harry had seen, been forced to deal with this failure ever since. He was the only person who could clear them of the charges that they would be sure to face.

Not even stopping to pull on shoes, Harry snatched up the hawthorn wand and barrelled out of Gryffindor tower. Two hours, he had slept for two hours. How long would it have taken the Aurors to start rounding up the Death Eaters in the Hall? How long before they figured out that the Malfoys were sitting there amongst the other survivors?

Well, not Lucius (and Harry thanked Merlin for that. Malfoy Senior's presence would have drawn attention fast), but Draco and his mother were. Reaching the marble staircase Harry threw a leg over the balustrade and slid the last few feet into the entrance hall. He leapt from the banister and landed, cat-like, placing one hand on the floor to steady himself. He straightened and walked into the Great Hall, feigning a nonchalance he certainly didn't feel.

It took him a moment to spot the Malfoys as they were surrounded by Aurors and in the end it was Professor McGonagall's shrill protestations that drew his attention to their whereabouts.

"Mr Malfoy is still a student at this school. Since when has it been Ministry policy to send children to Azkaban?"

"He is not a child, Professor, he is of age and bears the Dark Mark," the Auror explained, his tone impudent.

Harry's eyes shifted to Malfoy. He stood behind McGonagall; his head hung so that his hair fell forward in a curtain covering his face. His trousers were torn and a large shiny burn was visible on his leg. In all, he was a picture of abject misery and defeat, and Harry felt his heart go out to him. He was in this mess because his father was a lunatic and a moron who had put his own ambitions before the safety of his family. Had he been in Malfoy's position, had his mother been in Riddle's clutches with her safety resting entirely in his hands, he could not claim that he would have done any different.

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am, but you have no authority here." The Auror's disdainful tone cut into Harry's musings and he found himself getting angry. How dare he speak to the professor in that way? The Aurors had spent all year chasing him and indirectly working for Riddle. To suggest that McGonagall, who had worked her arse off for the Order, had no authority was unacceptable.

Stepping towards the party, he cleared his throat and eight sets of eyes fell on him. He immediately questioned the acumen of his decision to simply walk in here and intervene. Ah well, it was too late now, his presence had been announced. Summoning every ounce of Gryffindor bravery, he injected himself into the fray.

McGonagall looked at him curiously at first; her eyes widening in shock and surprise as he positioned himself alongside her, part of the barrier between the Aurors and the Malfoys. Finally, her features schooled themselves into a glare of resolve and superiority towards the impertinent Auror, a hint of a smug smile playing on her lips.

"Mr Potter?" The Auror looked at him quizzically.

"I have directions to take all Death Eaters to Azkaban to await trial." He was clearly hopeful that Harry might just step aside and allow it if he explained the situation to him: how naïve.

"I understand that." Harry wrestled to rein in the exasperation and frustration he was feeling toward this man. Condescending to him would get them nowhere fast. "But Mrs Malfoy and her son were captives of Riddle who helped immensely in the fight against him. Both of them have risked their lives to save mine on more than one occasion and without Draco's help I would not have had the necessary tools to defeat Riddle at all."

He took a steadying breath and turned to catch Malfoy's gaze. The expression he was wearing was beyond shock. He pulled the hawthorn wand from the pocket of his hoodie and offered it to Malfoy.

"Thanks for the loan."

Malfoy reached out carefully to take it, apparently concerned that any second Harry would snatch it back, laugh in his face and order him hauled off to Azkaban. Harry steadily held his gaze.

"If you hadn't lied for me, I would be dead right now, and so would Hermione and Ron. I know how much you risked doing that and I really appreciate it." Draco finally took the wand and Harry offered him a small smile as he left the hand that had offered the wand extended towards the blond.

Once again the surprise on Malfoy's face was almost humorous, but this time he didn't procrastinate and he grasped Harry's hand firmly and shook it once.

"Thank you, Potter."


	2. Chapter 1 Pockets of Calm

Chapter One

Pockets of Calm

_There's a high wind in the trees_

_A cold sound in the air_

_And nobody__ knows when you can go_

_And where do you start_

_Oh, Into the Dark_

_Bright Eyes- Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel_

Wednesday May 13th; Longhope, Gloucestershire

Half past five and a thin band of bright gold back-lit the distant hills and announced the dawn. Harry walked, almost silently, to Andromeda's back door and toed off his dew-damp Converse trainers. He considered briefly how strange it was that he was trying to be quiet, considering the cacophony of bird song all around him that accompanied the sun's arrival.

The key turned in the lock and he slid out of the early morning chill into the warmth of the kitchen.

"Morning, Harry." He jumped, startled at the sudden address. Silence really had been unnecessary after all. "Didn't mean to alarm you." The older woman smiled gently and lifted the coffee pot towards him in question.

"Please." He smiled slightly as he hung his brown leather messenger bag on the coat hook and rubbed quickly at bare arms in a bid to banish the lingering cold. Andromeda smiled at him affectionately, filled his favourite mug with coffee and nodded at a kitchen chair.

"He's down at the moment," she explained, placing the mug of black coffee and a plate of scones in front of Harry. He ignored the food but instinctively wrapped both hands around the mug, warming them. He considered the woman in front of him as she leant back against the kitchen counter.

She looked exhausted. The smart grey trousers and red sweater were covered with the deep creases that could only be acquired by sleeping in one's clothes; the sweater carried a small stain that gave testament to the number of Cleaning Charms used to clean up the baby sick. A few unruly strands of her salt and pepper hair had come loose from the twist that was born of practicality rather than elegance, and in general she exuded a weariness that made Harry feel tired just to look at her.

"We had a bit of a rough night, though," she explained, leaning back against the worktop, nursing her own mug. "It seems anytime I try and put him down he starts to fuss again. I think he's frightened I'll leave him." Her voice was sad. Harry looked at her with sympathy. Everyone had lost someone during the war but Andromeda's family had been completely decimated.

Only one week ago she had buried a husband, a daughter and a son-in-law and now her grandson was all she had left. In circumstances such as these, it was hardly surprising that she had decided to make Harry a member of the family, too. Harry had been thankful for it. The Weasley family were taking the loss of Fred very hard and being at the Burrow was a difficult experience.

Andromeda, on the other hand, appeared to be coping stoically with the loss. She invested everything she could in Teddy and all that was left she concentrated on Harry. Harry felt that he understood, at least partially, how she was able to persevere; when there was that much grief, how would she know where to begin? It was much easier to simply put it aside and get on with other things. It was a tactic Harry himself was very familiar with.

"How are the renovations going?" Andromeda attempted to break the heavy silence that had fallen over the kitchen. "I'm really looking forward to seeing if you can turn it into something that resembles a home. I haven't been there since I was about six so I don't really remember much, except that it was very dark, and we were strongly advised not to touch anything." A wry smile graced her lips at the last.

"I can imagine." Harry smiled with dark amusement. "It's coming on well," he admitted. "I've redecorated all the rooms. Pulled down all the panelling on the staircases and landings; managed to get rid of your Aunt's portrait along with it. It was permanently stuck to the panelling but the panelling wasn't stuck to the wall," he offered in explanation. They had spent half an hour trying to figure out how Harry could get rid of the portrait a few mornings before and he knew she would be interested that he had come up with a solution.

"What did you do with her in the end?"

"Threw her in the shed and surrounded the place with Silencing Charms."

Andromeda laughed, the sound dark, tired. Harry sipped at his coffee.

"Oh, and I found something interesting too."

The older woman's eyebrows rose in a silent question.

"I was removing the panelling on the top landing and I found a hidden door." There was genuine excitement on her face when she heard this and Harry found himself grinning back. "Next thing I knew, I was on a roof garden. It's still horrible right now but I'm hoping it'll look pretty good once I'm done."

She smiled at him. "I imagine the views from up there are just…" The first gentle sobs of a hungry baby drifted through the room, cutting her off.

Harry rose from the table and set his cup in the sink.

"I'll see to him." He stilled her with a hand placed gently on her shoulder. "Why don't you go and lie down for a bit?"

The look that flashed over her face was pure relief and Harry was surprised that she didn't even begin to resist.

He followed her up the stairs and entered the cool, dim nursery. Teddy wasn't quite crying yet but he was certainly working up to it. Harry ended the Monitoring Charm as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness.

"Hey there, little guy, you been giving your Nana a hard time?" The child's whines softened as he became aware of Harry's presence and watched happily as his breakfast was prepared.

"She's gonna be pretty irritated if you were a horror all night and then turn on the charm the second I turn up. You're going to have to give me a hard time, too, or she might get jealous."

Setting the bottle down on the small table by the rocker, Harry bent over the cot and smiled as Teddy raised his tiny hands in anticipation.

"Nope, you're determined to play favourites aren't you?" Harry mused softly as he settled the baby in his arms and sank down into the rocking chair, Teddy cooing at him gently. He offered the bottle to the baby and he immediately latched on to the teat and for a long while the only sounds were the gurgle of the bottle and the quiet creak of the chair.

Teddy felt warm and heavy in Harry's arms and he felt himself relax. This peace, here in the nursery, was the only real comfort Harry had been able to find in the two weeks since Riddle's death. With Teddy in his arms, the demons that chased him every waking moment and beset his dreams at night, felt far off and less significant. It was almost as if the smell of milk and baby powder worked together to form their own special kind of Patronus.

In the peace, the world itself seemed to slow down. Teddy began to doze slightly as he fed, and Harry drifted with him.

He appeared, for all intents and purposes, as though he was asleep, but Harry was still very aware. After all, HH

Harry was responsible for the child that, at that moment, was relying on him so entirely. The signs of this awareness were small, but they were there. The way Harry would occasionally reposition the bottle to ensure the baby wasn't taking in air with his feed. The way he would jostle Teddy gently any time his grip on the teat slackened, reminding him that he should be eating, not sleeping. The way he knew the second the bottle was empty and shifted to the next step in the routine.

He didn't bother with the towel as he lifted Teddy to his shoulder and began to tap his back. The shirt he wore had, after only two days, been renamed his 'baby sick t-shirt'. It had been through the wash six times that week. He was certain that at some point it would go into the machine and never come back out again as it dissolved in the warm soapy water. A small sound from Teddy bought him back from his musings.

"C'mon little guy, let's get you cleaned up," Harry suggested and placed the child on the changing table. Teddy was awake again now and, as Harry tried to remove his baby-grow and nappy, he became a frenetic blur of fists and feet. More than once a small chubby fist shot out to grab Harry's glasses off of his nose and as Harry got him into the warm bubbly water, the gurgles of happiness quickly changed into squeals of excitement.

Harry threw a wandless Silencing Charm at the nursery door and began to try to wash the very slippery child who would not keep still. By the time Teddy was clean and back on the changing table it was difficult to tell which of them had been in the bath. Teddy's reluctance to remain still, coupled with the enthusiasm he had for the new game of smacking the water with his hands, had resulted in there being very little water left in the bath at the end.

Once Harry had Teddy dry, powdered and dressed he turned his attention to cleaning up the nursery. Drawing his wand, he cleared the water from the floor, and was about to do the same for the three inches or so remaining in the bath, when he noticed that his actions held Teddy's rapt attention.

Instead of Vanishing the water he whispered a charm and led a small trail of water through the air over Teddy's head. It twisted and turned in a shimmering ribbon, following the smooth strokes of Harry's wand as he traced an intricate pattern. Teddy was enraptured and slowly the huge blue eyes began to close. Harry allowed the water to fall back into the bath and Vanished it quickly.

He placed the now sleeping baby back in his cot, pausing to brush the silky turquoise curls off of Teddy's forehead before aiming a Drying Charm at his t-shirt. When he turned, it was to see Andromeda standing in the doorway, but he didn't jump; he knew she'd been watching them for some time.

"It's almost hard to believe that, a fortnight ago, you'd never held a baby." She smiled as they stepped out into the hallway and Harry reset the Monitoring Charm. "You're a natural."

Harry felt a burst of pride in his chest and couldn't keep the smile off of his face. That comment meant more to Harry than Andromeda would ever know. His destiny since before he'd been born had been to kill, to die; so he drew an inordinate amount of pleasure from knowing he had a talent for protecting, nurturing, as well.

The rest of the morning passed quickly, a flurry of laundry and nappy changes and running the lawnmower around Andromeda's garden. Before he knew it he was back at home on the roof garden scrubbing and planting, refusing to give himself a moment to consider those things which hovered, imposingly on the edge of his consciousness.

***

The grey pre-dawn light was filtering into his bedroom as Harry awoke the next morning and the gloom did nothing to alleviate his very bleak mood. Resisting with all his might, the urge to just snuggle back down amongst the covers, and give waking up another shot in a couple of hours, he forced himself from his bed and into the bathroom.

In just a few hours it would be over, Harry thought, as the water from the shower beat down relentlessly on the back of his neck. This was the last funeral, the last victim of Riddle to be laid to rest. It had been a struggle to get the Ministry to allow him this funeral. As it was, it had taken two weeks to get them to acquiesce and release the body of Severus Snape to him.

They had wanted to treat him as all the other dead Death Eaters and bury him within the grounds of Azkaban prison, he thought as he towelled dry. Snape's lack of a next of kin had almost made that fate inevitable. He had gone to the Ministry as soon as he could. Had asked what was going to happen to Professor Snape's body. He had been met with a wall of bureaucracy that had threatened to overwhelm even his Saviour status. First, he needed to get a pardon for Snape which had turned out to be an infinitesimal request compared to his attempts to have the Ministry release Snape to him for purposes of burial.

In the end, the Ministry's desire to use his name had won out. He had been to fill in the paperwork a couple of days before and had run into a very sarcastic woman working in the Department of Wizarding Registration. As he had finally slid the three-foot scroll back across to the table to her, she had sneered at him.

"Are there any other vicious murderers you would like us to pardon, Mr Potter?" she had asked snippily.

Harry had looked at her, slightly bemused for a moment, no idea what she could be talking about, and then it struck him: Malfoy. She was referring to the Malfoys. He had left her pokey little office, returning the sneer with interest as he went. As he made his way back through the Ministry to an Apparition Point he tried to tell himself that it was the first time he had thought about Malfoy since their handshake in the Great Hall. The lie had been far from convincing.

He huffed through a mouthful of toothpaste as he thought of the depth of his denial.

Still, the few hours following his conversation with the officious bitch from the Ministry, was the first time he'd actively allowed himself to think about Malfoy. It had occurred to him that Malfoy might be one of the few people who would be interested in the time and location of Snape's funeral. He spent an unconscionable amount of time composing the letter to him; unsure what tone it should take.

There had never existed anything but enmity between them, and just like that it was behind them. Something new had begun that morning in the Great Hall. Harry just wasn't quite sure what it was yet. He knew what he hoped it would be; that they might actually be friends. He felt a deep empathy for Malfoy, felt that there was a chance he would understand what Harry was going through. Perhaps even more than Ron and Hermione did.

In the end he had decided to just lay it out there, to try to extend the hand of friendship again. He understood why nothing had come from their meeting in the Great Hall. There had been a crowd. They were, both of them, playing the roles that were required of them, doing what was needed to make sure that neither Draco nor his Mother were forced to spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. If Harry had been in Malfoy's position, he wouldn't have tried to further the friendship after that, either. He would have assumed that the entire thing was purely political. Any attempts at actual friendship had to come from Harry and had to exist without ulterior motive.

As he had tied the scroll to Archimedes' outstretched leg, Harry had felt a wave of panic flood through him and had very briefly questioned the wisdom of the entire scheme. But he had pressed on, and when his owl had returned near sunset with an empty leg he had found that he had been able to pretend that he was not disappointed and push Malfoy from his mind again.

Now, as he pulled on a thin black sweater and a pair of well-cut trousers, he allowed his well-sequestered disappointment to resurface. Only now, as the time for the funeral approached, he found it was tinged with hope. So, Malfoy hadn't written back. He'd only sent the letter two days ago and it was about a funeral taking place today. Maybe he was planning on attending. On talking to Harry once he got there.

Or maybe he wondered why he was inviting him to the funeral of someone who was little more than a teacher and Death Eater, the little voice in Harry's head opined as it tried to twist that hope into despair. It would appear that this shred of hope was made of sterner stuff, though, and it stayed with him as he pulled on his cloak against the early morning chill, headed up to the roof garden, and Apparated away.

Dawn's first light hit the town below and gave the whole place a very mystical feel. The small cemetery sat on a hill over looking a bleak little northern town. Mist hung heavy in its streets and from his vantage point only the terraced rooftops and factory chimneys were visible. The air was clearer up here but still the occasional wisp of mist drifted amongst the gravestones. Harry pulled his cloak tight against the chill.

"Why daybreak, Potter?"

The familiar voice behind him made Harry jump and whilst he fought with propriety to keep the smile off his face, he couldn't stop the feeling of elation that rushed through his chest, knowing that Malfoy had indeed come. He didn't turn to face the voice immediately though. He didn't want to seem too eager.

"Apparently, my word is enough for the Ministry but not for the court of public opinion." He turned slowly now, taking in the blond who leant so casually against the tree. "As I'm sure you've found out," he added sympathetically. "I didn't want there to be a hundred reporters and protesters here. He doesn't deserve that."

Malfoy smiled sadly at this and pushed himself up off the tree.

"No, no, he doesn't." He came forward to stand by Harry. "This was very nice of you, you know."

Harry looked away and a feeling of guilt crept up his spine. "It was the very least I could do."

He looked off to the horizon, trying to keep his calm, to keep a grip of the emotions that were once again threatening to overwhelm him. He was relieved when the officials turned up and the service began. He barely listened to the words that the elderly wizard leading the ceremony said. Through it, Malfoy stood unmoving by his side. By the time they left the mist was beginning to dissipate and the town below began to stir.

Harry felt Malfoy looking at him, and a moment later he broke the silence.

"I want to thank you for letting me know that this was happening, Potter. Severus was like family to me. Looked out for me where Lucius could never be bothered. I wouldn't have made it through the last year if it hadn't been for his help."

"I'm sorry," Harry offered, his voice barely above a whisper; he still couldn't look at Malfoy. Silence again. He was just beginning to wonder if the other boy had left when he spoke again.

"Why did you organize this, Potter? You were never close in school; hell, I always thought you hated him. Not that you didn't have a right to, of course; he was always a complete shit to you." Malfoy's voice was gentle, not a trace of sarcasm or contempt.

"He saved my life," Harry whispered. "Several times, now I come to think of it, and it's not fair."

"What isn't?"

"He was a hero, Malfoy. A real hero; fuckers who keep labelling me a hero have no idea what the word actually means. He gave everything he had, gave his life to defeating Riddle. Spent pretty much his entire adulthood living a lie to help us defeat him and all people will ever remember is the fucking tattoo on his arm." Harry kicked the tree and pain shot through his foot, centring him, forcing the anger back down. Unfortunately, something needed to replace it.

He heard sobbing, felt hot tears on his face and it took him a moment to realise that it was him crying. The demons were at the door, threatening to overwhelm him. Why had he come back? He should have stayed dead; death would have been so much easier than this. Strong arms circled his shoulders; long fingers threaded themselves through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him forward.

He reached for the proffered comfort and looped his arms around Malfoy's waist, pressing his face into his shoulder as Malfoy began to rub slow circles on his back. He offered no words, made no attempt to stifle Harry's sobs, just held him until eventually the tears subsided.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy." Harry suddenly felt embarrassed as he pulled awkwardly out of Malfoy's arms and leant against the tree to steady himself. He knew he should look up, meet Malfoy's gaze and brazen out his embarrassment, but he couldn't quite mange it. He heard shuffling. A pair of expensive-looking loafers came into view and Malfoy's cool fingers were under his chin, tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

"You don't have anything to apologise for," he said, silver eyes searching Harry's face. Harry felt himself relax and Malfoy smiled. A genuine smile without a trace of a sneer; Harry's head swam.

"Though I would appreciate it if you called me Draco." He allowed his hand to drop back to his side but continued to hold the eye contact. "Every time you call me Malfoy I feel like I should be calling someone Weasel or shooting Leg-Locker curses at your back." He grinned and Harry couldn't help but grin back.

"Thanks, Draco."

"You're welcome, Harry." Harry noticed that he put just the slightest bit of emphasis on his name. As if testing how the name felt in his mouth. "Are you okay? I told mother that I wouldn't be long but if you need me to stay…" Harry smiled at what was clearly a very genuine offer.

"No, thank you Draco, but I need to be getting along to take care of my Godson."

Draco nodded and turned to leave and Harry felt panic flood through him. What if this was it? Draco had given him a peace that until now he had only found ensconced in Teddy's nursery. He couldn't go back to the indifference, couldn't turn his back on this offer of comfort.

"Draco," he called out. The other boy paused and turned back slightly to look at Harry. "I thought maybe we could get a drink some time," Harry gushed feeling the embarrassment wash over him. Had he just asked Draco on a date? A slow smile spread across Draco's face.

"I'd like that." At that response, Harry felt giddy with relief and was desperately relieved that he was still leaning against the tree.

"I'll owl you and we can arrange something," he suggested, feigning a nonchalance that he most certainly didn't feel.

"I'll look forward to it. See you soon, Harry." Draco span on the spot and was gone before Harry was able to fully comprehend what had just happened.

"See you soon, Draco," he offered up to the now empty cemetery before spinning on the spot himself and reappearing at the bottom of Andromeda's garden, about three times lighter than he had been the day before.


	3. Chapter 2 Sins of the Father

Disclaimer: I own nothing, though occasionally I wish I could just borrow Draco for a bit.

A/N: This is where the whole thing starts to get a bit angsty and its only going to get worse. You have been warned.

Edited by the Charming and Wonderful saras_girl, with out whom, my inspiration would surely wither and die. :D

Chapter 2

Sins of the Father

_I won't back down_

_No, I won't back down_

_You can stand me up at the gates of Hell_

_But I won't back down._

_Tom Petty_

Tuesday May 5th 1998, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

The first time that the nervous elf approached Draco on his return from the Ministry, he had expected to be told that an entire wing of the house had been destroyed in his absence, considering the bending and grovelling the creature was doing.

"Mistress Narcissa has not yet left her rooms," the squeaky voice had informed him, "and she won't allow any of us to enter."

It took Draco a moment to realise why this was such a problem. The staff of elves was under standing orders to turn down the beds, provide meals, and collect laundry and the like. Narcissa's orders to be left alone meant that their current orders directly contradicted each other, and this had thrown every elf within the manor walls into a state of flux.

Wearily, Draco had assured the frantic creature that he would take care of it, and began climbing the ostentatious main staircase heading for his mother's room. He was unable to completely suppress the flicker of resentment that sparked in his stomach. After a day spent 'volunteering' information to a group of vitriolic and zealous Aurors, and with the promise of similar days to come, he would welcome nothing more than the opportunity to spend all day in his rooms, refusing to leave his bed, and being as troublesome as possible. That behaviour however, was unlikely to convince the Ministry that they had been correct to listen to Potter's claims that he and his Mother had helped during the war.

The only thing that could convince them of that, it would seem, was to willingly present himself at the Ministry of Magic and allow their Aurors to treat him as the worst kind of scum. Simultaneously, they would quiz him about his father's every involvement during the war. Many of the questions had been downright impertinent, but it was the ones that left the bitter taste of bile at the back of his mouth that made him wonder if this might be the very least he deserved.

He knew it was their disgust with his father, rather than with him, that caused them to treat him as a criminal. He knew that it was their own misdirected frustration at their inability to apprehend Lucius, which caused their hostility towards him. His strict, classical education had seen him study enough tragedies in which sons were left to overcome and make amends for the many and varied sins of the father, to allow him to realise that he was currently in the middle of one.

The tall oak doors of his mother's rooms loomed before him. His hand raised to knock, he paused a moment, taking a deep, apprehensive breath. There would be no point in taking his resentment into the room with him. Should his mother sense it, she would immediately take a defensive stance. His annoyance coupled with her frustration at her inability to accompany and support him at the Ministry would lead to guilt on her part, and Narcissa Malfoy did not do guilt well. It would inevitably manifest as anger and be dropped solidly in Draco's lap. He'd had enough of that for one day.

He exhaled messily, allowing a little of his tension and frustration to escape with it, and knocked lightly on the door. No answer. He knocked again, a little more firmly, in case she was sleeping: still no answer. He tried the door and was surprised to find it locked. This was most unlike his mother. She was not one to spend time brooding, nor was she especially dramatic; that particular trait, Draco had inherited from his father. A whispered _Alohamora_, and the door clicked. A slight trepidation swirled in Draco's gut as he pushed the door inwards and stepped tentatively into the room.

"Mother?" he called gently, allowing the door to swing closed behind him.

Narcissa Malfoy's rooms were beautiful, and usually filled with an airy, brightness that never failed to lift Draco's spirits. Today, however, the antechamber felt gloomy and still. Usually a day such as this would see the French doors thrown wide, causing the voile curtains to billow in a breeze scented by the lavender, which sat in pots on the balcony's rail. The dim half-light, in which the room was shrouded today, was uncomfortably unfamiliar. The heavy drapes were still pulled closed across the windows, and the air was thick and stale. The trepidation began to take on a touch of panic, as Draco made his way through the silent room to his mother's bed chamber.

Here he paused and knocked again. His panic was not quite at the level that would allow him to throw good manners to the wind, and charge headlong into a lady's bedroom. Still there was no response, and he tried the door, relieved when it clicked open at his touch.

"Mother?" he tried again, allowing his eyes to scan the room for any sign of the reclusive woman. When he spotted her, slumped on the chaise lounge, he inhaled sharply. He immediately regretted it as his nose wrinkled at the staleness of the air in the room. His mother was still wearing her night clothes, her hair in disarray. The plait that she would wear to bed was still present, but no longer doing anything to bring her hair to order.

Draco crossed the room, reaching her in three long strides, but still she did not acknowledge him. Her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes were fixed on the horizon as her fingers twisted in her nightdress, ceaselessly worrying the fabric. Draco crouched beside her and tried again to get her attention.

"Mother?" His voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle her, but as he cupped her cheek, running his thumb across the numerous tear tracks that had collected there, she started anyway.

"Draco?" she asked, refocusing sad blue eyes upon him.

Draco nodded, not trusting his voice to stay strong, were he to try to speak at that moment. His mother presented as a picture of abject misery, and he immediately felt guilty for his earlier resentment.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Fresh tears sprang up in her eyes, and Draco wrapped his arms gently around her shoulders in an unfamiliar display of affection. His mother's tactile and maternal parenting had lasted until he turned ten, at which point his father had put his foot down. Lucius had been concerned that 'coddling', as he called it, would see Draco turn out soft. From there out it had been all rules, and discipline, and expectations he could never meet.

As his mother's arms came around him, he had the distinct feeling of coming home and he savoured what could only be described as a very un-Malfoy moment.

"I didn't do enough to protect you, Draco, I know that," Narcissa snuffled, her voice still thick with tears. Draco pulled back to look into the watery blue eyes, his own tears pricking his eyes.

"You did all you could, Mother, this wasn't your fault." Draco was alarmed at just how much the word 'this' was currently encompassing, and he wondered if she would ever believe that he really did not hold her accountable. His mother swallowed visibly and closed her eyes. Draco watched as the frail woman before him retreated, and once again became Lucius Malfoy's wife.

When she looked at him again, the aloof serenity which had surrounded her through out his teens was back in place. Draco rose and stepped back, reeling slightly, from the sudden gear shift. As he extended a hand to help his mother to her feet; he found the formality, of his role as Malfoy heir, a touch more wearisome than he had moments before.

"I shall have the elves prepare dinner and will return to escort you down in an hour Mother." He heard himself retreating back into the safety of etiquette and winced internally. He kissed her cheek and hurriedly left the room, hoping that with his father's absence, he and his mother might eventually be able to recover the warm familiarity they had once shared.

***

The second time the nervous elf approached Draco, the creature was close to having a panic attack. He was into the second week of helping the Ministry, and was now working on their internal investigations. This had thankfully seen the questions become less personal, as the focus of the investigation had shifted away from his immediate family, and towards rooting out those inside the Ministry who had collaborated. The more information they could extract from him, the fewer deals they would be forced to make with those already filling the cells of Azkaban.

As he stepped from the fireplace, Draco realised that the normally peaceful manor was in uproar. House-elves were running every which way, laden with boxes. He almost lost his balance as a particularly exuberant elf collided with his knees, bouncing backwards and landing, dazed, a few feet away. Surprised, Draco abandoned propriety and scooped up the little creature, setting it back on its feet. It was only then he noticed that this particular elf appeared to have a tail. A long, sparkly tail.

"Is that tinsel?" he asked, confused. The elf in front of him could only squeak when it realised that it had crashed headlong into the young master of the house, and the creature supplicated itself at his feet.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked, as another nervous elf arrived to explain that Mistress Narcissa had thrown the entire house into uproar, when she insisted that the manor be dressed for Christmas, in time for Draco's return from school.

One or two of the more senior house-elves had tried, gently, to point out that it was in fact the middle of May, and that Draco hadn't been at school since the previous November. Unfortunately, there was only so much disagreeing that the house-elves could get away with, and so, in the absence of anyone to countermand the order, the manor had begun to prepare for Christmas.

"Where is my mother?" Draco asked the anxious elf, recognising a weary tone in his voice and knowing that he would have to address that before he approached the woman in question.

The elf directed Draco to Narcissa's favourite parlour, and as he began to stomp towards it, he realised just how unsurprised he was at his mother's antics. Since emerging from her self-imposed seclusion, she had made an effort to act as she had before the world had changed. She did not always manage a flawless performance, however. She was more forgetful than ever and would occasionally question Draco about his progress at school, where his father was, and why Mrs Parkinson hadn't responded to her owl.

Each time she had one of these lapses, Draco had delicately reminded her of the date. He reminded her that he was no longer in school; reminded her that Lucius was on the run from the Ministry; reminded her that Mrs Parkinson was serving a life sentence in Azkaban. Each time it got harder, and Draco found it increasingly difficult to remind his mother of reality, without having to relive the events when he tried to sleep that night.

Draco pushed open the door to the parlour, to be met by a scene of utter chaos and a wall of heat. Obviously unable to get her hands on a Christmas tree in late spring, his mother had attempted to Transfigure what he could only guess was the large potted yucca plant, which had, until this morning, sat peacefully by the pool. It was still essentially the same shape, but now each of its long spines was comprised of tiny needles, and it gave off a pervasive scent of pine.

The Transfiguration seemed sufficient enough for the enthusiastic matriarch, and the sad looking plant had been engulfed in glass baubles and sparkly beads. Boxes of decorations littered every possible surface, their shiny contents spilling out onto the floor. The fire burned brightly in the grate, combining its heat with that of the warm spring day outside and making the room intolerably hot. In the centre of the chaos stood his mother. She had a fevered shine to her eyes and Draco wondered for a moment what he could possibly do to put this right.

"Mother?" he kept his voice low and calm, approaching his mother as one might a startled deer. She twisted on the spot as if he'd yelled, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Draco! What are you doing here? You are supposed to be at school until tomorrow," she accused.

Draco winced, his mother's voice was high and panicked and it tore at him to see her so frantic. He reached out to take her arm and guide her to the sofa. Stealing a moment, he extinguished the fire and cast a few windows open, allowing some of the heat to escape the room, all the while gathering himself for what he was certain would be a very difficult conversation.

"Mother," he began, sitting beside her and hoping that this wouldn't be too hard on her.

"I'm not at school anymore," he explained gently. "I left Hogwarts last year, remember?" He would save her the reasons why, if he could. He'd an inkling that she would only forget them anyway. He took a deep breath, waiting patiently. His mother wore a bemused expression, as if she both understood what he was saying, but couldn't quite grasp what she was being told.

"What is that?" she asked suddenly, her expression clearing slightly, as she pointed to the deformed yucca. Draco hoped that his mother wouldn't notice the surprise that he was sure must have flitted across his face, before he allowed the cool Malfoy mask to slide into place.

"It's just a little project I was working on," he lied smoothly, "but it hasn't worked out the way I planned. I was just about to start tidying up. I should have it cleared away shortly." Draco smiled graciously and rose from the sofa as his mother did.

"I know you will." Narcissa smiled at him indulgently. "You are such a good boy." She stroked his cheek affectionately and swept from the room.

Draco sank back onto the sofa, resting his head in his hands. He had no idea what was going on with his mother anymore. Increasingly she was living in the past, as if she were trying to forget that the past two years had happened. Draco would have given anything for that to be true, to allow his mother her delusions, but he couldn't pretend their lives were anything other than what they were.

It took only a few flicks of his wand to pack all the decorations neatly into their boxes again, and return the unfortunate plant to its original state. He scowled when he caught himself apologising to the plant for its treatment. Maybe his mother's eccentricities were contagious.

A growl of frustration escaped Draco as he sank back onto the sofa. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes firmly enough to create a swirling pattern, which danced on the back of his eyelids. For a moment he tried to map the pattern, noticing the small geometric shapes that swam there, before he tore his hands away.

It didn't help anything after all. Not that he really had any idea what would help right now. This was supposed to be over. His mother and he had been through hell. They had endured all of Voldemort's threats and coercion, had survived the invasion of their home and the accompanying violence, and now they had emerged on the other side, alive and free from both Voldemort and Lucius' tyrannical reign. It didn't seem to matter though, and Draco felt bitterly disappointed with the outcome.

Thus far, every day of his so called freedom had been spent trying to restore the tiniest shred of honour to the Malfoy name. Then, to make matters worse, whilst he spent his days shut up in interrogation rooms from dawn till dusk, it appeared that his mother was going slowly mad.

In a fit of irritability, he slammed his fists into the supple leather, before gathering himself. Feeling sorry for himself did him no good at all, he thought resignedly, as he rose from his seat and stalked towards his rooms. Had Draco indulged his fits of pique whilst under Voldemort's reign he would have died long before now. He had done without these flights of fancy for two years, and the lack of an immediate threat was no excuse to begin to indulge them again.

Despite this resolve, the emotion itself was a little more recalcitrant and it continued to hang about him as he reached his suite. Slamming the door behind him, he cringed momentarily at what his father's reaction to such petulance would surely have been, and then discarded that train of thought as well. Worrying about what his father might think had been the cause of this mess and he wasn't about to start that again either.

He allowed his petulance to hold reign for a little longer, as a kind of internal rejection of his father's exacting standards. He dragged his robes angrily over his head and flung them at the chair under the window. He issued a little yelp of shock when the chair in question gave a soft, indignant hoot. He glanced across to see a small barn owl extricate itself from the discarded fabric, and flutter to the safety of the window ledge.

It took a couple of minutes of fumbling and tugging before Draco was able to release the note. During this time the owl held out its leg with a patience rarely found in the haughty birds. Tentatively he unfurled the message, eyes shooting immediately to the signature scrawled in a slightly haphazard, loopy script.

The note slipped from his fingers and floated to the ground as his stomach began to turn lazy somersaults. He tried desperately to process this information, to come up with a scenario in which the saviour of the wizarding world might have anything at all to say to him. He scolded himself, again. He was acting like a Hufflepuff, trying to imagine what the golden boy might have to say when the answer was laying at his feet.

He stooped and quickly retrieved the note, allowing a mild sneer to settle on his lips. The contempt on his face was steadying and familiar, allowing him some control over the uncertainty that was gripping his insides. If he could just convince the pounding in his chest, that the self assured look on his face wasn't just a façade, then he would be happy.

He quickly scanned the note that Potter had sent, and then read it again. It wasn't long by any means, but if he had been surprised at receiving a correspondence from Harry Potter, he was completely floored by the contents of said correspondence. It didn't cross his mind to even consider refusing Potter's invitation.

Severus Snape had been Draco's mentor during his time at Hogwarts, encouraging Draco where other teachers seemed determined for him to fail. Later, as Lucius' fervour for the cause had increased and driven him from his family, Severus had acted as a father. He had guided Draco and helped him to come to terms with Lucius' abandonment.

During the last two years, Severus had taken on the role on protector, diverting attention away from Draco when ever he could and lessening any punishment doled out when he could not. Draco did not doubt that without Severus' watchful eye he would be long dead.

These were not the only reasons that he intended to accept Potter's invitation, mind. He wanted to know what had caused the Boy Who Lived to have such a change of heart with regards the Potions professor. It was completely unfathomable to him, why Harry Potter of all people would have organized the funeral of Severus Snape. The man had stood at Voldemort's right hand, had killed Dumbledore. Clearly Draco was missing something and he really hated not knowing.

Draco carelessly discarded the last of his clothing as he made his way towards the shower, still wrapped in his thoughts, puzzling over the anomaly. Stepping into the glass enclosure, he sighed as the multiple jets of fragrant water massaged his tired muscles. As he relaxed, his mind drifted slowly, rebelliously to the final reason he would accept the invitation.

Potter would be there. Though he rarely admitted it, even to himself, since the moment the other boy had grasped his hand in the Great Hall he had been intrigued. Intrigued by Harry bloody Potter, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his unconscious mind to change the subject.

***

The smirk which spread across Draco's face as he made his way through the manor to the solitude of his rooms was completely at odds with the maelstrom of confusion raging inside his head. This did not stop him from suspecting though, that the smirk wasn't going anywhere, and despite his recent difficulties and disappointments, he was pretty certain that the smirk was on its way to becoming a permanent fixture.

He had never imagined that he would get such a simple thrill out of comforting someone, but as Harry's face had pressed into his shoulder and Harry's arms slid round his waist, a peace had suffused his veins. All at once he knew that he wanted to always be the one that Harry called on for comfort, and that was scary and exciting, all at the same time.

The funeral had challenged Draco's every assumption of Harry Potter, from the moment that he rose from the mists of the grizzled little town, standing in the shadows of the factory chimneys. The cemetery, in contrast, was a sweet little place. It had none of the grandiose splendour of the Malfoy plot, but was more a small copse of cherry and yew, holly and elder, with the graves interspaced amongst the trees. There was a hush that settled there that wasn't the creepy silence usually associated with a place of burial. A gentle birdsong broke through the quiet and the wind rustled the leaves on the trees, giving Draco a feeling of calm.

When he had finally come across Harry, he had been standing with his back to him, as he looked out over the town below. As he approached, he had been surprised when Harry didn't turn and didn't appear to notice his arrival. He had thought the saviour of the wizarding world would have been much more aware of his surroundings, and he couldn't help wondering how he'd survived so long, if he allowed people to creep up behind him.

Two more steps, and Draco had understood Harry's complacency. The flicker of a ward could be seen, rippling in the air like vapour over hot tarmac. The wards had been powerful and Draco had called out rather than just blundering into them, picking some random sardonic comment that would grab the other boy's attention without kick-starting their old enmity.

As Harry turned, the look of sadness on his face had taken Draco's breath away. Harry had dropped the wards as soon as he recognised him, and Draco had been both warmed and alarmed by this simple demonstration of trust towards someone who bore the mark of his enemies. From there, the surprises had just kept coming.

He had been surprised by Harry's reasons for the early hour, for the consideration Harry had shown Draco's mentor, as well as himself, by trying to limit any kind of media exposure.

He had been surprised at how comfortable he had felt in Harry's presence as he stood next to him at the graveside. Listening to the Ministry official read the words, which had been repeated so many times in the preceding few weeks, as well as a few words which hadn't.

He had been surprised, and slightly awed, when the official had strayed from the conventional lines and passages. The poetry that was added seemed even more magical in the misty cemetery. _'They shall have stars at their elbow and foot, though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the sea they shall rise again.'__1_Draco longed to ask Harry when he had become interested in poetry, wanted to find out how someone who he had thought for years was devoid of culture had come to pick such a perfect piece to be read at the funeral.

He had been surprised when after the service Harry had hung around and satisfied Draco's curiosity, as to the reasons he'd arranged for the Potions master to be laid to rest. Draco had begun to suspect that Snape was not the dyed-in-the-wool Voldemort supporter that he had always appeared, but he was utterly astonished to discover the extent of the man's sacrifices. To hear Harry tell it, the man was not just a Johnny-come-lately to the cause, but had in fact been working under cover for seventeen years. The admiration in Harry's voice had shone out as he recounted Snape's deeds, leaving Draco feeling proud of the man who had accepted him where his own father had failed.

He had been surprised when tears had begun to escape from the vivid green eyes. This didn't compare to just how astounded he was at himself, when he folded Harry in a comforting embrace. His fingers had carded through jet black curls, which looked like they should have been coarse, but were delightfully soft. At that moment he had become lost in sensation, in the complete warmth of Harry. The feel of Harry's warm, firm body pressed against his, Harry's hot tears seeping through the shoulder of his robes, puffs of Harry's heated breath against his neck amalgamated to leave Draco suffused with such a sense of well being that his knees felt weak.

He had surprised himself when Harry pulled away and he hadn't felt the need to act like a wanker to cover the intense vulnerability he felt as he looked into Harry's eyes. He had no doubt, had the exchange have taken place just six months earlier, he would have made some kind of a derogatory comment. He would have tried to make Harry feel small, so that he could gain some kind of advantage. Apparently, at that moment advantage had been irrelevant.

By the time Harry had mumbled out the suggestion they should get together for coffee some time soon, Draco was no longer able to feel surprise. He felt like the world had turned on its head as he watched Harry blush at the proposition, and something inside him skipped as he wondered what that embarrassment might indicate. Now the endless surprises had worn him out and exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he slid beneath his sheets, and sleep took him. Despite the early hour, Draco slept restfully for the first time in two years and did not wake until the following morning.

1 Dylan Thomas: And Death Shall Have No Domain


	4. Chapter 3 All Pile On

Disclaimer: Do not own anything at all. These characters belong to luckier people than me, I just can't stand to see Harry wasted on Ginny.

Edited by the patient and witty saras_girl.

Chapter Three

All Pile On.

_Now I know I've got to_

_Run away, I've got to_

_Get away_

_You don't really want any more from me_

_To make things right_

_You need someone to hold you tight_

_You think love is to pray_

_I'm sorry I don't pray that way_

_Tainted Love - Gloria Jones_

Monday May 18th 1998. Grimmauld Place, London

Harry awoke suddenly with the warm, creamy skin and flashes of pale gold hair carrying from his subconscious and making him groan with arousal. It had been three days since the funeral and Harry was trying to figure out just how it was that he could no longer get Draco sodding Malfoy out of his head.

The first morning that he had awoken with his erection straining against his shorts and silver eyes flashing in his mind, he had felt like he should at least pretend to be horrified. After all, that was the usual response when finally accepting that long hair and breasts just weren't going to do it for you, wasn't it?

Try as he might, though, as he made his way to the kitchen to drown his sorrows in a mug of strong coffee, he couldn't quite muster an acceptable level of indignation. He'd had similar thoughts before, after all. Last summer when Charlie Weasley had stripped off whilst clearing the garden in preparation for the wedding, Harry had been mildly alarmed at how aesthetically pleasing he had found the tanned, muscular torso.

At the time he had decided that it was a phase. He remembered hearing somewhere that all teenage boys go through a phase like this at some point, why should the Chosen One be any different? His lack of horror at his more recent discovery revealed that he'd never quite managed to convince himself of this excuse.

On day two, he had spent a good portion of his morning run trying to convince himself that he might be gay, but there was no way he was attracted to Draco Malfoy. That way lay only madness and frustration. Besides, he had spent six years hating the blonde git; to suddenly move from that to attraction was a bit of a stretch.

By day three, however, Harry had given up any resistance to the fact that in the small hours of the morning, after the nightmares left and before the sun rose, it was Draco that was visiting his dreams, and he loved every second of it. So, rather than leaping out of bed and making coffee, or pulling on his trainers and running until he forgot, he allowed his eyes to drift closed again, and slid a hand down to grasp his cock as he tried to remember the more lurid aspects of his dream.

It was a somewhat calmer Harry that entered the kitchen ninety minutes later and he mused that if this were to become a regular fixture of his morning routine then something would have to change, as he'd barely managed five miles of his normal nine mile route before exhaustion overcame him thanks to the morning's pleasant distractions.

As he prepared his breakfast, he wondered what it was he was going to do with his day. There was no Teddy today; Andromeda had decided that three days a week was more than enough responsibility to put him and had told him so. As appreciative as she had been for his help in the first couple of weeks, she had pointed out that he had to figure out what he was going to do with his life, and that wasn't going to happen if he spent all day every day in a nursery.

The problem, though, was that Harry had no idea what to do and he wasn't really all that ready to think about it. He was the very definition of indecisive at the moment. He would spend all day on his own at the house reading and just hanging out and then he would begin to feel lonely. However, the few times he had gone to the Weasleys', he had wanted nothing more than to come straight back home again. Being around other people somehow made him feel even more alone, with one notable exception.

Once in his head the thought refused to be dispelled. He had said that he would owl Draco, that they would meet up for coffee, and he did appear to be one of the few people that Harry could bear to spend any time with. At least, based on a very small sampling, he was. A wave of complications accompanied that prospect, however.

Was three days long enough to not look too eager? If he was right and Draco was one of the people he could suffer to be around, how was he going to deal with his sudden attraction? And what if he wasn't, what if the situation in the cemetery had been a fluke occurrence? Asking to meet up and then bailing after twenty minutes was not a particularly good start to a new friendship.

Harry was still musing on these dilemmas half an hour later, over a bowl of somewhat soggy cornflakes, when he heard a whoosh and clatter from the Floo connection in the entrance hall. Depositing the uneaten cornflakes onto the counter, he went to investigate.

He arrived as Hermione was brushing away the last traces of soot from her shirt and jeans and watched as she slowly took in her surroundings with an awed expression.

"Wotcha," he said from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. Something about the greeting, however, caught in his throat and he tried to place it. He felt his blood drain slightly as he recognised the greeting as Tonks'.

He shook the morbid thoughts from his head. It was just a word. Hermione hadn't noticed his falter, thankfully. She was still taking in the entrance hall with an open-mouthed wonder, and he had time to recover himself, settling into a feeling of slightly smug accomplishment.

"Can I offer you some tea?" he asked mildly, trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed his friend's open admiration of his hard work. He was pleased to notice that this was actually a really good morning for Hermione to see the renovated Black house for the first time. Sun was streaming through the stained glass panels at the sides of the heavy front door and casting patches of red, green and blue light onto the honey coloured oak floor boards. Hermione finally ceased with her inspection of the entrance hall and turned to smile warmly at Harry.

"Only if you give me a tour afterwards," she demanded, her grin turning cheeky.

"I'm sure I can manage that," Harry agreed casually. He pushed himself up off of the door frame and caught his friend in a quick hug. "It's good to see you, Hermione," he offered and Harry was surprised to realise that he was telling the truth. Apparently, Hermione was another person on the somewhat exclusive list of people with whom he could stand to spend time.

Supplied with tea he led her up through the many rooms of the house, listening appreciatively as she ooh'ed and ahh'ed in all the right places. She was as delighted with the library as he'd hoped she'd be, running her fingers over the worn leather spines of the Black family's collection and taking a little longer to peruse the two tall shelves near the desk which contained the new volumes of Harry's collection. Harry shrugged when she shot him a slightly quizzical look.

"I'm not a complete idiot, you know, I do read." His tone had a slightly wounded and defensive edge to it and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I know you aren't an idiot, Harry, why else do you think I pushed you so much in school." She sighed as if this explanation were obvious. "Get you and Ronald together, however, and your attitude towards studying becomes that of a five year old."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that she had a point.

"You remember during our fourth year, when you and Ron weren't talking?" she asked, and Harry nodded, wondering how she expected him to forget something like that.

"Two months, and in that time your grades shot through the roof. I can't pretend that at times I wasn't completely frustrated with you," she admitted, abandoning the books and moving to stand in front of him. "You clearly have a brilliant mind and you seemed quite determined to waste it." Her tone was sad and once again Harry rippled with defensiveness.

"I kind of had other things going on, Hermione," he bit back, immediately regretting it when he took in the wounded look on her face.

"I know that, it's just… well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" The forced brightness in her voice demanded that this subject was better off dropped, and it was as much the shock of Hermione volunteering _not_ to talk about something, as his own reluctance that saw Harry acquiesce.

They returned to the tour, and though Hermione continued to appreciate Harry's handy work, it took a few more rooms before the shadow of their almost-conversation ceased to hang over them. Even then, Harry suspected it had not been avoided, only postponed.

When they reached the top landing and Hermione noticed the extra door, her little squeak of surprise was incredibly gratifying to Harry. As he led the way up the narrow stairs, he found himself holding his breath in anticipation of her opinion of what Harry considered the best 'room'.

Hermione's stunned silence when they emerged into the warm spring morning was as delightful as any words she could have offered. Pots of flowers and fragrant herbs were scattered with a haphazard order across the roof garden, and glass lanterns were situated amongst them, to provide sufficient light on the warm evenings. Harry slid into one of the wrought iron chairs that accompanied the small circular table and motioned for Hermione to join him.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, simply enjoying the warm sun on their faces, as the looked out across the rooftops to where the taller buildings of central London began a few blocks away. A sea of black tile giving way to silver and glass that glinted and flashed with every opening car door. Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

"How did you do all this?" Hermione asked gesturing not just to the garden but the house below them. Harry couldn't help but give her a slightly strange look.

"Magic," he explained simply, not quite able to keep the slight 'duh' tone out of his voice. Hermione gave him a look, the one that suggested she thought he was being deliberately dense.

"It's been three weeks, Harry, by all rights you should probably still be in bed nursing your wounds," she said simply, and all of a sudden it was on them, the conversation, and Harry wanted nothing more than to avoid it.

"I had to _do_ something," he explained, inadequately. Another one of Hermione's patented looks, this one said _'you need to do better than that.'_ So, for her, he tried.

"I needed to do something, to prove… to prove that I could," he tried again, realising that this explanation was not much improvement on his last. Hermione, to her credit, didn't issue the sigh of frustration that he knew was on her lips. Instead, she continued to wait patiently, giving him chance to expand without being hassled.

"Part of me can't get away from the fact that I should be dead right now," he said in a rush, in the hope that saying it quickly would make it easier. "I needed to do something tangible, something permanent, something that proved I was still here and able to change things," he gushed, hoping that the explanation would make enough sense for Hermione to allow the subject to drop.

She nodded thoughtfully and sipped her tea. Relief washed over Harry as he realised that his answer, however inarticulate it may have been, had been accepted.

Silence reigned between them for a few more minutes and Harry became aware that Hermione clearly had more she needed to talk about.

"You remember what I did to my parents last year, don't you?" she began, phrasing the statement as a question for reasons Harry couldn't fathom. As if he could forget the sacrifices his friends had made to help him on his quest. Still, he nodded, whether Hermione needed him to or not.

"Well, now all this is over I was thinking that I should probably go and get them," she stated simply and again Harry nodded. Of course she would have to go and get them, track them down, remove Memory Charms, explain and apologise for tricking them in the first place. He would miss her whilst she was gone, of course, but he'd get by.

"Ron has said he'd like to come with me," she added nervously, and Harry realised that he was less bothered about this, than he was at the idea the Hermione would be leaving. Ever since Ron's disappearance at Christmas there had been a slight distance between them that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't like he blamed Ron for running out or anything like that. It was simply that the implicit trust that Harry had, in the thought that Ron would always be at his side, was now gone. They were still friends, still close, only now it was… different.

"It will be good for both of you to get some time away," Harry reassured, needing her to know that he didn't have a problem with them doing something without him. "I know it's not exactly going to be a holiday or anything but it will be warm and it will be somewhere different. What's that Molly always says? Change is as good as a rest?"

He took another sip of tea and scowled as the tepid liquid hit his tongue and cast a wandless Warming Charm that earned him a smile of approval from Hermione.

"That's what we thought, too, and we were wondering if maybe you'd like to come, too?"

Harry struggled to contain his look of horror.

"No offence, 'Mione, I appreciate the offer and everything, but I'm done being chaperone to you guys," he offered carefully, inspecting the filmy layer on top of his tea that always resulted from a Warming Charm, as a way to avoid looking at Hermione. "It's taken you long enough to get together, you could do with some time on your own to just…" he trailed off, trying to think of a way to end that sentence that wouldn't be mortifyingly embarrassing to them both. "I'd just be a third wheel," he added, trying to draw attention away from his fumble.

"Not necessarily." Hermione's tone was cryptic and Harry got the feeling she had been expecting him to say this. "There's nothing to say you would have to come alone," she attempted, coyly. Harry's mind provided an immediate flash of pale blond hair and bright silver eyes but he knew that thought wouldn't go anywhere. "You could bring someone with you," she continued in that tone of voice which Harry recognised as her 'trying to be subtle' tone. Unfortunately he wasn't following her.

"Like who?" he asked needing it to be spelt out for him.

"Like Ginny?" Hermione suggested, as if it were obvious. Harry blanched. He could feel the blood drain from his face and he immediately felt nauseous.

"Ginny?" he asked and cursed internally as his voice cracked slightly.

Hermione looked at him then, a curious expression on her face, as if she were studying a particularly difficult Arithmantic problem.

"I don't think that would be a good idea." Harry cringed, not because Hermione made the assumption, but because he'd completely forgotten about Ginny.

"No, perhaps not," she agreed carefully. More silence and Harry rested his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop. How did he manage to forget Ginny? If he were feeling cruel he could say that they'd split up, that he didn't owe his ex-girlfriend any kind of explanation. Theoretically it was true and he didn't, but he knew that the reality was different.

No promises were ever made, nothing was ever said officially, but the implication was always there. If things worked out, if they both survived, they would pick up where they left off. Undoubtedly that's what Hermione had thought, what the Weasleys thought, what Ginny thought.

"Has she been waiting for me?" Harry asked, knowing that Hermione wouldn't need him to clarify what they were talking about.

"She hasn't said anything but…" But yes, Harry finished in his head.

"I guess I should talk to her, then," Harry muttered resignedly.

"Yeah, you probably should," she admitted and Harry was pleased to hear that there's a touch of sympathy, and not a shred of judgement in her voice.

"No point in putting it off any longer," he said sadly and then, thinking just how much he stood to lose at this point, he added "could you do me a favour 'Mione?"

She looked up wearily.

"I'm not doing it for you!" she stated quickly and Harry had no idea where that had come from. He was appalled that she even felt the need to suggest it.

"No, Merlin, fuck, no, nothing like that!" he exclaimed, feeling it was necessary to show how horrified he was that she'd even thought he might suggest it. "I'm going to go over to the Burrow and do it this afternoon," he explained. "I was wondering if you could make sure Ron isn't around, is all. He's never had the steadiest temper when it comes to me and Gin."

"Oh gosh, yes of course." Hermione blushed, clearly embarrassed that she had thought he was trying to pass the buck. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know why I thought you would…"

"It's okay," he interrupts, only slightly stung by her assumption, "I haven't acted very chivalrously so far after all" he admitted.

Hermione slipped her hand across the table and gripped his fingers gently in a simple gesture of reassurance. The silence settled again but this time Harry barely noticed it; he was so caught up in thinking what he would say to Ginny that afternoon.

"Can you tell me why?" Hermione's voice caused Harry to jump; he had been so deep in thought. "I mean, you don't have to," she backtracked, "but you always seemed so comfortable together."

"I'm not sure I can, Hermione," he admitted. It had been one thing to be willing to admit being gay to himself, admitting it to his best friend was something quite different all together. "If I were to say, we are fundamentally incompatible, would you leave it at that? At least for now?" he asked, hopefully.

"Of course, Harry," that careful look was back again and her mouth fell open as if she was going to say something else, but she was unsure quite how to phrase it.

"What?" he asked. She was going to say it sooner or later; it might as well be sooner.

"Just, you know you can talk to me don't you? About anything. Even if you can't talk to Ron," she offered, carefully. Harry smiled, Hermione really was remarkably perceptive.

"I know 'Mione, and, y'know, thanks," he stumbled, even though it completely underplayed what she'd just offered. She was willing to lie to her boyfriend for him, and Harry was suddenly immensely grateful that he had charged headlong into that girl's bathroom seven years ago.

"Every new beginning is some other beginning's end," she said cryptically and Harry recognised the phrase from somewhere. He grinned.

"We are just a fountain of fortune cookie wisdom today aren't we?" he commented and smiled playfully.

She returned the smile and held Harry's eyes for a moment; it seemed as if she was searching for something. She obviously found it, because all of a sudden she was gathering her bag and jacket.

"Well, I suppose I'd better be getting back, there's a lot to do before we leave. We're going at the end of the week," she said matter-of-factly. "We should be back well before the new term starts, especially since they still aren't anywhere near done with the repairs yet. Arthur was saying they think they're going to push the start date back to October this year."

"Wait, what?" Harry was suddenly confused. "What was that about Hogwarts?"

Hermione looked surprised. "You mean you didn't know? But of course, how could you know? They haven't discussed it with anyone yet."

Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of what his friend was saying.

"Slow down, 'Mione," he requested, and he watched as she took a long breath.

"Professor McGonagall is going to void last year entirely," she explained calmly. "No one was taught the proper curriculum, no one took final exams. The entire year is going to be repeated. This year's first year will just be slightly larger than normal, is all."

"And the seventh year will be slightly smaller that normal," he said with a tinge of bitterness to his voice as he thought of all of those who had stayed on to fight in the final battle and hadn't made it out the other side. Hermione looked at him nervously, but decided against saying anything more. She leant forward and kissed his cheek and Harry's eyes slid closed at the contact. He really was going to miss her.

"Take care of yourself," he said, hugging her tightly.

"You too," she whispered, "and good luck this afternoon. Don't worry, I'll take care of Ronald." Harry chuckled darkly at that, somehow he didn't think that their friendship was going to survive all the strains he was about to put on it.

***

The Burrow was just as Harry remembered it as he Apparated into the lane. Chickens scratched lazily in the front yard, the collection of Wellington boots still looked like there wasn't a pair amongst them and the cauldron was now nearly completely covered in rust. Ignoring the front door, Harry slid through the rickety gate at the side of the house and into the back garden, hoping that on such a lovely afternoon Ginny would be out on the porch.

He was in luck. She sat on the porch swing, book in her lap and feet curled up underneath her. Harry watched her for a moment and felt guilt wash over him as she lifted her arm to turn the page and he saw the long gash that was still healing there. He almost chickened out, but at that moment she spotted him and before he could turn and flee back to the safety of his home, she had put her book on the seat and was stalking towards him, a frown on her face.

Harry cringed as he considered her expression. In the balance of things, her being mad at him was going to make this easier than if she were full of enthusiasm to see him, but on the other hand, he really didn't like being yelled at.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ginny snapped accusatorily as she reached him and Harry winced.

"I'm sorry, Gin, I would have come and seen you sooner, but you know, I've been… dealing." As Harry stumbled over his words, a little of his guilt dissolved. It had been a tough time for all of them. He knew Ginny must be missing her brother, but seriously, was she really selfish enough to demand that he put her first? It was very rare that Harry allowed himself to think that he deserved something, but if anyone deserved a little time to adjust after the war, it was him.

Ginny's face softened a little as she placed a comforting hand on his arm and Harry had to fight himself not to flinch away. He had no idea how he was going to do this.

"Yeah, yeah of course, sorry. It's just been hard, y'know," she explained, shuffling her feet before turning pleading eyes to Harry. She wanted a hug, and Harry wanted anything but, so he decided to pretend he hadn't realised.

"Sure," he agreed. "Look why don't we...?" He paused and gestured to where the stream cut behind the Burrow. Ginny nodded and he fell into step alongside her, allowing silence to fall briefly as he considered his lack of a plan.

"Hermione came to visit you this morning, didn't she?" Ginny was asking suddenly.

Harry grunted slightly in assent, wanting to know where this was going before he committed to the conversation.

"I wanted to come with her, of course, but she said it would be better if she went by herself the first time. She said that you'd been avoiding us so it was probably better if she spoke to you one on one, and you know how she can be."

Harry was suddenly very grateful that she didn't seem to need him in this conversation, and he just listened, hoping to find a way in.

"I said that you would want to see me but she absolutely insisted on going alone, and then she snuck off so that we couldn't go with her," Ginny continued and Harry tried not to smile at Hermione's guile. There were times when he could have sworn she should have been a Slytherin.

"But you aren't avoiding us anymore, are you?" Ginny asked him, turning to smile brightly. On reaching the stream, Ginny perched lightly on a convenient log, patting the space next to her, encouraging Harry to join.

"Look, Gin…" Harry began, only to have the red head cut across him again.

"I was thinking, after dinner on Sunday, maybe we could go into London, get some ice-cream. Just the two of us, y'know, and then you can show me what you've done to the house."

Harry gaped, open-mouthed for a moment, before finding his voice.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed, raising his voice slightly in the hopes of breaking through her monologue. She looked up at him sharply, eyes narrowing, at the tone in his voice.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Ginny," he explained gently and a look of comprehension crossed her face followed by a slow grin. Why was she grinning?

"I'm an adult, you know," she whispered conspiratorially, "I turned seventeen in April, we can do whatever we like."

Harry frowned, confused for a moment, then it was his turn to be hit with a wave of realisation. He leapt to his feet and stepped backwards, putting a decent distance between himself and the sadly misguided girl.

"No, Ginny that's not…" Harry scrubbed a frustrated hand across his face. "That wasn't the point I was trying to make at all!" he insisted earnestly, and a slightly unpleasant look settled on Ginny's face.

"So, what exactly are you trying to say, Harry?" Her icy tone forced a shiver from Harry and he studied the ground for a moment, before locating his masculinity and meeting her eyes.

"I'm saying that I don't think you and me is such a good idea." He paused to allow her to yell, but she didn't say anything; she stood there looking pale with her lips pressed into a thin line, but she was quiet at least and so Harry blundered on before he lost his nerve.

"Too much time has passed. I don't think we can pick up where we left off any more. I'm a completely different person to who I was a year ago, and I'm sure you are, too," he offered, still hoping ambitiously that there was a chance that they could still salvage their friendship after.

"Of course we can't," she said, and for a moment Harry dared to hope. "We would have to start again, from the beginning, get to know each other again, stuff like that," she suggested, as if it were obvious.

Harry sighed, completely exasperated; either he wasn't making himself understood or she was being belligerent.

"I can't, Ginny, really. I just can't do this right now. I can't be your boyfriend. I'm sorry." Harry hated the whine in his voice as he said this and felt as if he were on the verge of frustrated tears.

"Not now?" Ginny asked, "So maybe in the future?" There was a tone of desperation to her voice now.

"No, not now, not in the future, it's not going to happen, Ginny." Harry sighed, exhausted, allowing his eyes to drop closed for a moment. When he opened them again, the picture that Ginny presented was one of cold fury.

"No," she spat firmly. "No, you are not doing this to me, not now, not after everything I've sacrificed. We're going to get married, Harry, we're going to have kids. I've been infinitely fucking patient with you, I've been waiting for five years for you to get your act together and now you're just going to walk away? No way! Not happening!"

Harry looked at her as if she were deranged, and to be honest he wasn't sure that even she was aware of what she'd just said.

"We were supposed to get married," he repeated quietly. "Was I going to be consulted about this at any point or were you going to stick me under an Imperius?" He was trying to remain calm but he noticed the slight edge to his voice as he spoke.

"Oh, get over yourself," she spat and Harry laughed. It was a hollow painful sound but it was still a laugh and that was when Ginny threw her first hex. Fortunately for him, as good as she was, Ginny was no match for his war-honed reflexes, and he had raised the Protego charm before she had finished saying the words.

"Thank you for that," he growled, maintaining his shield. "I did feel guilty about having to come here today and tell you we were done but you've just made it infinitely easier. It was nice knowing you, Ginny." And with that, he Apparated away, not waiting for whatever vitriolic retort she had been ready to throw.

***

Harry placed his mug of tea on the coffee table and flopped down onto the couch, the leather creaking at suddenly having to accommodate his shape. Discarding his glasses next to his mug, he leant back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered just how quickly a day could go from alright to absolute shit.

It wasn't that he hadn't expected the encounter with Ginny to be difficult, it was that he had expected crying and to come away feeling bad because he'd let her down. Somehow, he knew that he could have coped with that. Her anger and her venom, however, had taken him completely by surprise.

He knew that Ginny had a temper; it was something of a normal trait in the Weasley family, but the way she had expressed it, with a list of things that she expected, no, demanded from him, was beyond insane. He wondered remorsefully which of the Weasleys he'd hear from first.

Molly probably wouldn't believe it at first; she would tell Ginny to give Harry some time to calm down and he'd come around. George hadn't been home since the funeral, finding his family too difficult to be around at the moment. It would probably be a few days before news filtered though the family grapevine enough to reach Bill or Charlie. Ron, however, was a ticking bomb.

Harry considered shutting off the Floo and hiding, not answering the door until Ron was safely on another continent, but that would suggest that he was in some way in the wrong and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that just wasn't the case. He had broken up with Ginny a year ago; had said specifically at the time that they weren't just separating temporarily. He had said that they would see where they stood, but he could not be held responsible every time someone jumped to a conclusion about him.

As far as he could see, he'd acted completely honourably. He hadn't messed her around, hadn't tried to hook up with her again. The moment he thought that she was in anyway misinformed about their relationship he had set her straight, as gently as he could. Despite all this, however, he was pretty certai that the only family he'd ever known was about to cast him as the evil villain who broke their daughter's heart.

Sighing deeply, he slid sideways, resting his head on the arm of the couch and drawing up his feet until he curled on his side. The day's argument had worn him out and as his eyes slid closed he remembered how he'd naively thought that defeating Riddle would mean he wouldn't have to fight any more.

"HARRY!' The angry yell echoed through the rooms of Grimmauld Place and Harry shot up blearily, wand drawn and eyes shooting around trying to locate the cause of the disturbance. From downstairs he listened as the door was thrown open and then slammed shut. And another.

"HARRY!" Ron yelled up the stairs. He rose from the sofa and took a moment to steady himself from the ensuing head rush, and heavy footsteps fell on the stairs as he made his way out on to the landing to meet the irate Weasley.

"I'm here, Ron," Harry said wearily, running a hand over his face and realising that his glasses were still on the coffee table. Instantly Ron was bearing down on Harry, his face red and an accusing finger waving in Harry's face.

"What did you do to her?" Ron yelled furiously, spittle flying and hitting Harry's face.

"Nothing, Ron, I didn't do anything. If you'll just calm…" Harry tried, but Ron's fist flew out and connected Harry's jaw with a sickening crack.

"Ronald!" came a shrill horrified voice from somewhere near the top of the stairs and through the haze and pain Harry recognised it as Hermione.

"No, 'Mione, this is like the third time Ginny's been distraught over him and I've had enough of it."

"Linn 'On," Harry attempted trying to explain, but his jaw was swelling rapidly, and he had a horrible feeling something was broken.

"You know what?" Ron spat, "I don't care what your reasons are, you just stay away from her, you hear?" Ron's boot crashed into Harry's ribs and he heard something crack.

"Incarcerous!" Harry heard Hermione call, and he allowed his eyes to close briefly as Ron was pulled away.

"What the hell, 'Mione? Why are you defending him?" Ron yelled, his tone one of righteous indignation.

"Because there's going to come a day when you will regret this and besides, I'm not about to let you kill Harry. Now, Mobil Corpus," she said, and Harry heard the footsteps retreat and from the bottom of the stairs. "Now go home, Ronald."

Harry heard the whoosh of the Floo opening, Hermione yelling, "The Burrow," and Ron's inelegant squawk as he was shoved into the fire. Slowly, carefully, Harry began to pull himself upright.

He was on his feet by the time Hermione re-emerged at the top of the stairs and silently she pulled Harry's arm around her shoulder and, being careful to avoid his ribs, helped him down to the kitchen.

"...anks," he managed as he sank into a chair and Hermione bustled around making tea. Realising she hadn't even thought to try and heal him, Harry sighed and immediately regretted it when a sharp pain raked across his ribs.

"Ionie, an oo?" He indicated his face and hoped that she understood what he was trying to say.

"Oh, but you're so much better at those Healing Charms than I am," she said worriedly and Harry knew the effort it must have taken her to make this simple admission.

"Ant ven ay esky," Harry pointed out painfully and Hermione relented. He just needed her to lower the swelling enough for him to speak then he could do some thing about his ribs.

After Hermione's _Episkey_, Harry's face felt less tight, indicating that the swelling had gone down, but he was no less sore and he knew he was going to have a massive bruise in the morning. His own _Episkey_ on his ribs was more successful and as he took a deep breath, he knew that the bones had been healed.

He lifted his shirt to see the dark outline of Ron's boot print on his chest, and he smiled lopsidedly as he realised he'd managed to speed up the bruising as well. His ability with the Healing Charm was clearly improving, though there was a touch of concern at the amount of practice he must have been getting to strengthen his skill.

Now settled at the kitchen table with their mugs of tea, Harry took in the slightly fuzzy Hermione sitting opposite him and said the very first thing that popped into his head.

"Well, that went well!"

She laughed and he had to smile, too, even though it really hurt and wasn't actually funny in any way.

"I think our plan to get him out of the house backfired somewhat," Hermione admitted, taking a long drink from her tea. "Before he stormed over here, he was ranting about you sneaking about behind his back and that you've been trying to avoid him."

"I haven't been trying to avoid him," Harry sputtered, outraged.

"Well, you have," Hermione reasoned in her matter of fact voice, "but I think the point is that you haven't been avoiding him specifically. You've been avoiding everyone."

Harry hung his head a little in embarrassment at the truth in Hermione's words and she slid her hand across to cover his where it rested next to his mug.

"The thing is, that I know it isn't personal, that you just need time to get your head around everything that happened." She smiled at him gently and he returned it, once again eternally thankful for Hermione's level of insight.

"Thanks," he whispered, looking back down to where her hand covered his and taking comfort from the way that Hermione would always at least try to understand something.

"Ron, on the other hand, takes everything personally; he's taken the fact that you've been hidden away here personally and now apparently he's taking the fact that you don't want to date his sister personally, but you know him, he will give into reason occasionally and I can be rather persistent when I have a mind to be." She grinned wickedly at this.

"You don't have to set this straight, 'Mione. It's my mess, I should clean it up." Harry sighed slightly dramatically and rested his now aching head on folded arms.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. We both know that this will take a girlfriend level of wheedling before he's willing to even start to come out of his corner. Really he's the only person I know that is more stubborn than you." Hermione rose and took the cups to the sink but didn't retake her seat.

"I shall wait a little while for him to cool off and then try and explain it to him delicately, carefully." Her mischievous smile returned. "I shall even speak slowly and use small, simple words, okay?"

Harry rose quickly from his chair, something in the back of his head telling him that it was impolite to sit whilst a woman stood.

"I'm not saying I'll fix everything," she continued, and Harry began to realise that he was just an observer in this conversation. "When we get back, you boys are still going to have to sit down and talk about whatever it is that's bothering you both, but at least I can get it to the point that conversation is possible."

"Thanks, 'Mione, for everything." He smiled and immediately regretted it as his face throbbed. She brushed away his gratitude with a bashful look and pulled him into a gentle hug.

"You going to be okay?" she whispered next to his ear, the question a front for a thousand others.

"I think so," Harry muttered, and as she made her way back towards the fireplace, Harry amended himself under his breath. "I hope so."

As the flames died behind Hermione, Harry came to realise that a full twenty-five percent of the people he was currently comfortable with was about to leave the country for at least a month. With another under a year old and yet another over sixty, he came to the decision that once again fate appeared to be toying with him.

For a moment he considered being belligerent. He lived with his entire life being fated up till now and he resented that there was even the smallest feeling that what he was about to do wasn't entirely of his own free will. Then, however, he realised that cutting off his nose to spite his face was an extremely stupid thing to do. With that in mind, he sat down and penned a note to Draco Malfoy.


	5. Chapter 4 Fade Away

Disclaimer: I own noting at all.

A/N: Up until now I have managed a Friday update. However next week sees me disappearing off to Lancaster to spend some time with my awesome girlfriend. Whilst I shall endeavour to stick to my schedule this may not be possible, so if next weeks chapter is a little late I apologise in advance.

Edited by the wonderful saras_girl who is currently stuck somewhere on the M5.

Chapter 4

Fade Away

_It's true, I'm missing you_

_As I stand alone, in your room_

_Every day that will pass you by_

_Every name that you won't recall_

_Every thing that you made by hand_

_Every thing that you knew by heart_

_And I will try to connect all the pieces you left_

_I will carry it on and let you forget._

_Silent House- The Dixie Chicks__1_

Friday May 15th 1998, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

The last vestiges of sleep clung to Draco as he swam back to consciousness. The long shafts of light that filled his room suggested that it was a few hours past sunrise and it wasn't until he spotted two different editions of the _Daily Prophet_, that he realised he had in fact slept for twenty-four hours.

He raised himself up on his elbows experimentally and was surprised to find that the heavy head, which would normally accompany such an unusually long, deep sleep, was pleasantly absent. He allowed himself to fall back into the warm sheets as memories of the day before began to filter into sleep-clouded thinking and a small smile settled on his lips.

_How long would it be before Harry contacted him_? he wondered, and he was unable to prevent himself from hoping that Harry wouldn't delay too long. The embarrassment hit him in a small wave when he realised that he was pining after Harry Potter's company but he quickly dismissed it. After all, it wasn't like he had a lot of choice when it came to friends these days.

The war had been hard on everyone, but had been particularly brutal with Slytherin House. Not that they hadn't brought a lot of the trouble upon themselves, but still Draco grieved for the many friends he had lost during this ill-fated attempt at immortal glory.

Crabbe had been the first of course, his own stupidity and malice being his downfall as Draco had always suspected it would be. Still, no-one deserved to go out like that. Vincent's screams as the Fiendfyre had consumed him still echoed in Draco's many nightmares and, he suspected, would continue to do so for many years to come.

Pansy had been the second one to fall, and her death still caused him the most grief. She had tried to do what her mother had asked of her, tried to encourage those inside the castle to hand Harry over to Voldemort. It really wasn't her fault, that by that point, her heart just wasn't in it. She had been hoping, as much as Draco had, that Harry was going to pull off the miracle and save them all.

When he had managed the impossible, she should have been safe but she lacked the security that Draco had of having at least one parent who cared for her welfare. When she had returned home after the battle, Ivanna Parkinson, who rivalled only Bellatrix herself in the fervour of her service to the cause, had ended her daughter's life with a cry of '_Traitor_!'

Draco shivered as he remembered how he had found her later that day, spread-eagled on the floor, brown eyes wide and glassy as they stared up at him. It had taken the Ministry a matter of hours to apprehend Ivanna and she had seemed only too happy to admit her crimes with a flourish of pride, or so one of the less aggressive Aurors had informed him.

Draco wriggled deeper beneath the covers, trying to chase away the sudden chill that came over him. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and was only slightly surprised that he was still wearing the thin sweater that he had worn to the funeral. As he buried his face into the crook of his elbow he caught the scent of something, something clean, warm, spicy and reassuring. Something Harry. Within moments, though, the sadness remained, the chill retreated and Draco relaxed again.

Gregory Goyle's absence from Draco's post-war life was painful for a completely different reason. Where Pansy and Draco had done some terrible things in order to survive the ordeal, Goyle had relished his tasks and had applied himself to them with gusto. Draco had lost track of the other boy after they had escaped the Room of Hidden Things and it was only during his interrogation that he had become aware of the full extent of Goyle's actions.

He had decided to take full advantage of his position as a Death Eater within the castle walls, and had snuck thorough the corridors during the truce, finishing off the injured. The realisation that he had spent six years living with the depraved coward made Draco sick to his stomach and with the distinct feeling that even Azkaban was too good for him.

Blaise hadn't even returned for the beginning of the seventh year. His mother, seeing the rising danger, had yanked him out of Hogwarts and deposited him in Beauxbatons Academy so fast that his head had spun; Draco hadn't heard from the other boy since.

Nott was different, though; nothing had happened to him. Nor had Bulstrode been especially affected. They had never been particularly close, though Bulstrode had at times tried to fit in with Draco and his crowd, she would quickly give up. Nott was another matter altogether. In his more ignorant days, Draco had characterised Nott's disinclination towards all things Voldemort as slightly Gryffindorish and had mocked him for it.

When his father's influence had ended with the stint in Azkaban, he had quickly and willingly relinquished his position as one of Draco's friends, preferring to bury himself in work. It had not escaped Draco's notice however, that unlike himself, Nott hadn't even feigned fury at his father's incarceration; instead he had looked rather relieved.

As he thought about it he realised that there was a chance that he and Nott could possibly become friends again in time, the same was true for Millicent. Neither prospect, however; filled him with the level of anticipation, the thought of Harry's friendship did.

The thought perturbed him slightly. He had been more than willing to accept that Harry's friendship was coming to him at a time when he had no other friends left. Not that it was a last resort; it was just that he'd been more open to it in his current situation. The possibility that he would actually choose Harry's company over that of others was slightly unsettling, however.

As his thoughts drifted eagerly towards Harry, his eyes slid shut and he felt the ghost of Harry's warm presence pressed against him. Slowly he felt himself flush, the tell-tale signs of arousal swirling in his groin and he realised why it was Harry's company was that much more interesting.

'_Oh!'_ he thought to himself, pleasantly. He allowed his imagination to play with his memories, turning the whisper of Harry's breath against his neck into warm, enthusiastic kisses. Memory-Harry's body, pressed flush against his, began to rock and grind as Draco allowed his hand to stray to his erection and he happily lost himself in the sensations.

By the time Draco rose from his bed and showered away the last remnants of sleep, sunlight was flooding his room. He stepped out onto the balcony with his coffee, enjoying the warm spring air, and noticed that it was almost midday. He smiled to himself; he hadn't spent that much time just sleeping and thinking since his father had been sent to Azkaban. He couldn't stop the slightly sappy thought that Harry was already having a wonderfully positive effect on his life.

With a sense of wellbeing that he couldn't remember having experienced any time in recent memory, Draco practically skipped down the main staircase. All sense of decorum momentarily forgotten as he went in search of his mother, hoping to share his good mood with her.

The drawing room door was open and Draco was pleased to see his mother sitting calmly on the sofa, a book resting lightly upon her knees. As Draco entered the room, she looked up and smiled.

'Oh, Lucius, I'm so glad you're here, I had a mind to ask you something,' she commented innocently, apparently unaware that she had just caused Draco's blood to run cold.

'You've cut your hair,' Draco heard her say through the rushing noise that was now filling his ears. He watched as his mother's face creased slightly with confusion.

'Wait, you aren't Lucius,' she accused and Draco struggled to find his voice.

'No, mother, It's Draco.' He stood rooted to the spot, not trusting himself to move without falling as his mother's mouth opened slightly and she considered this.

'Oh, Draco, sorry darling,' she recovered quickly. 'It must have been a trick of the light, for a moment…' she tapered off, clearly realising the damage the phrase that she was about to utter might cause.

It was too late, of course, she had thought it, he had thought it, and it had done its damage. She had mistaken him for his father and no matter what the light was doing, that was one thing that Draco never wanted to happen ever again. Swallowing his horror for the time being, he made the effort to sit and speak to his mother for a few minutes before he announced that he had some errands to run in London and would not be back until the evening.

Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron, Draco eschewed the Diagon Alley entrance and headed out into Muggle London; nothing he could buy here would be like anything his father might wear. The frustration that he held from his mother's off hand comment meant that the shopping trip was somewhat intense.

Initially he had thought of owling Harry, of asking him to come along, thinking that the other boy's presence might have a calming effect upon him. Even as he thought it the realisation that after only a few friendly words, he already wanted to lean on him in a difficult moment, made Draco feel weak and this only fuelled his ire.

The sheer quantity of purchases Draco made was a testament to just how much damage his mother's careless insult had done. He had learnt at a relatively early age that shopping was to him was what a bottle of good scotch had been to his father. This particular trip, however, would have been better compared to swigging Firewhiskey straight from the bottle, such was the desperation that lurked behind it.

Draco's back was aching and his feet were on fire as he made his final stop that afternoon and he was exceptionally grateful for the reprieve that the hairdresser's chair offered him. As he waited patiently for the professional to assemble his tools he impetuously considered having all his hair shaved off, or having it dyed black. Both ideas, however, were quickly disregarded and instead he settled for having the hair, which had been rapidly approaching his shoulders, cut so it was now in line with his jaw.

Tired and feeling slightly happier that it would be difficult to make the same mistake again, he returned to the Manor and spent a rather tiring evening with his mother. After the unpleasantness of earlier, she had managed to rally her mood and was in rather high spirits. This was, of course, easier for her, as she had no recollection of the event at all.

***

Draco frowned when he realised the next day that his mother was not in her drawing room. Neither was she in the library, nor in her suite. He had just been about to give in and call a house-elf for the information when he heard a pitiful whine, followed by his mother frantically calling him from the conservatory.

This was surprising. His mother had eschewed the comfort, of what at one point had been her favourite room, for several years now. As a child, he remembered Narcissa as a keen gardener and the conservatory had always been her room, filled with raised indoor beds and fragrant, exotic flowers that she would spend hours caring for, frequently with Draco at her side.

He had asked her once, when he was in his early teens, why she didn't garden anymore and at the time she had confused Draco when she had simply smiled sadly and explained that it was no longer the same. So, though the house-elves had continued to tend the plants, the bright, warm room had remained closed, untouched.

As he stepped into the room, he was met by wall of heavily-perfumed humidity and he paused, giving himself a moment to adjust and searching for his mother amongst the deep green foliage and audacious blossoms. When he spotted her, she was sporting a look that was sadly becoming more commonplace with her; her hair was in disarray, clothes askew and eyes frantic as she searched desperately for something, looking under benches and behind bushes.

'Draco?' she called again and the sound was so desperate that it tore at him.

He stepped into the room so that she could see him and used the calming voice that he was being forced to use with his mother more and more frequently.

'What's the matter?' he asked, hoping that they would get past this most recent episode quickly.

'My son,' Narcissa exclaimed, eyes wild. 'I can't find my son.'

'Ummm,' Draco stumbled, suddenly very unsure of how to proceed.

'He was right here,' she explained indicating the space just in front of her, 'and I was feeding the orchids, and then when I turned to him he was just gone. Draco!' she explained, before calling again.

'Okay,' Draco said, taking a steadying breath. Enough was enough; obviously his mother wasn't going to get past these spells on her own; it was time to call in some professional help. He started to come up with a plan to keep her in the conservatory whilst he went and fire-called the Healer.

'Wait.' His mother's suspicious tone snatched his attention. 'Who are you? What are you doing here?' she asked, her panic rising.

'I'm Gabe, Lucius' nephew,' he explained suddenly, thankful for the flash of inspiration and wondering what it was that had caused him to think of his cousin and the passing resemblance they shared. 'I was on my way to see my uncle and heard you calling and I thought I should come and see if you were alright,' Draco fabricated.

'Yes, yes of course,' she muttered distractedly. 'Will you help me, Gabriel? Will you help me find Draco?'

'Of course I will, Aunt Narcissa,' Draco said, continuing with the bizarre little charade. 'Why don't you wait here in case he returns and I will go and speak with my uncle, perhaps Draco is with him?'

'Yes, yes that's a good plan. You are a good boy. I shall wait here,' she muttered, nervously.

Draco's heart broke, as he watched his once proud mother standing in the middle of her favourite room, her posture slumped, making her appear small as her hands gripped and twisted restlessly in her robes. He still had a role to play, however, and he snapped a short bow before making to retreat from the room.

'I shall return shortly, Aunt,' he informed her and quickly left the room. Once out of earshot, he called an elf to him and instructed the creature to watch over his mother, but under no circumstances were any of the elves to go to her. That done, he dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace and cast the sparkling green powder into the flames.

It was going to be ten minutes before Healer Mornay could get to the Manor and in that time he had advised Draco to try to stay away from his mother. He was concerned that whilst Draco had done the right thing in the first instance, further entanglements would only expedite her confusion; so, with nothing to do but wait, Draco collapsed into an armchair.

It was not two minutes later that the elf appeared at his feet to inform him that Mistress Narcissa had left the house and was making her way up the drive. Sighing resignedly, Draco followed.

It would seem that his mother could move rather quickly when she wanted tol; either that or she had been Apparating short distances, because by the time Draco caught he she was already on the outskirts of Codford St Mary and was confronting any pedestrian she came across, asking if they had seen her son.

Draco placed a firm hand on her arm to draw her attention and she span around, eyes wild.

'We found him, he is at home with his father,' Draco explained and he watched as his mother crumpled in a heap at his feet, relieved sobs racking her thin frame. Draco crouched in front of her, noticing for the first time, that she had run from the house without her shoes and her feet were bloody and torn.

'Let's get you home and then you can see him,' he suggested, keeping his voice as soothing as he could manage, as he helped his mother to her feet and then lifted her easily into his arms. Immediately she curled against him, burying her face into his shoulder as he carried her away from prying eyes before Apparating them home.

Healer Mornay was waiting for them patiently when they returned to the Manor and Draco nodded at him to follow them as he carried his mother towards her rooms and placed her on the sofa there.

'Where's my son?' she asked again, as soon as Draco had released her and he exchanged a worried look with the Healer.

'He's in his rooms, you can see him soon,' Draco assured. 'But you've injured yourself. Why don't you let the Healer take a look at your feet first, after all, you wouldn't want to frighten him,' Draco suggested, trying not to think about the sheer absurdity of the conversation.

'Yes, no, of course,' Narcissa said, confusion creeping back into her voice and Draco dared to hope that this current nightmare was about to end.

'Here, why don't you drink this?' Healer Mornay asked, extending to her a bottle of pale lavender, iridescent potion which Draco recognised immediately. 'It will help with the discomfort,' he explained.

Draco watched as his mother unguardedly took the bottle and swallowed the Dreamless Sleep potion silently. Moments later, her eyelids slid shut and Draco fell back into the armchair sighing with relief, as the Healer went to work.

The house-elves regarded Draco curiously as he entered the manor's large kitchen and set about making a cup of tea. Within moments, however, all the elves had made themselves scarce, knowing that when Draco was in the mood to make his own tea, he was most definitely not in the mood to deal with the elves' wounded professional pride and it was best for all concerned if he was just allowed to get on with it.

This would only be the fourth time he had encroached on the house-elves' territory. The last time had been the evening he had been called home from school because his father had been arrested. That had been less over the stress of losing his father and more because he was concerned what was going to happen to them, in light of Lucius' failure.

Draco reached into the top cupboard and pulled out the oversized blue mug that he kept especially for occasions such as this. Quickly, he lost himself in the process of making his tea perfectly. Perching atop a stool at the kitchen counter, he began to poke listlessly at his drink with a teaspoon as he waited for the Healer to finish with his mother. He was determined to keep the day's events from overwhelming him, at least until the man had left.

By the time Healer Mornay entered the kitchen, Draco had finished his first mug of tea and was nursing a second.

'How is she?' Draco asked reluctantly, not certain that he wanted to know the answer.

'She is resting peacefully for now, Mr Malfoy,' the old Healer reassured, as he lowered himself on to a stool and hissed slightly at his creaking joints. Draco busied himself making tea for the other man.

'I won't lie to you, though; her prognosis is not good… thank you,' he added, as Draco pushed a cup across the counter towards him and slid back onto his stool, to resume his intense observation of his own tea.

'She is suffering from permanent spell damage, Mr Malfoy.' He paused, apparently unsure of how to continue.

'She's not going to get better, is she?' Draco supplied, hating the way his voice sounded small and childlike.

'No, she's not; she's going to get worse.'

'But a month ago she was fine,' Draco protested, 'and she hasn't had anyone cast a spell on her since then!' he continued, as if somehow the facts would see just how illogical they were being.

'That is probably what has speeded the progression, unfortunately,' Mornay explained sadly. 'You see, the damage was already there, but whilst she was being cursed? Charmed?' he asked, unsure of just what had been the cause of Narcissa's current state.

'Both,' Draco confirmed bitterly, knowing that his father was fond of both Imperius and Obliviate.

'Right,' the Healer's tone was hollow and remorseful. 'Well, whilst this was happening on a regular basis, her mind was being given frequent breaks from reality, essentially making everything slightly easier to deal with. It is one of the cruellest things about this kind of prolonged abuse; the victim becomes dependent on the abuse continuing.'

'So, you're saying that if I were to continue to put her under Imperius every day, then she'd be okay?' Draco spat, feeling sick.

'No, no it wouldn't help at this stage.' Mornay shook his head sadly. 'Her mind is shutting down, Mr Malfoy.'

'So what do I do?' Draco asked; he could hear the desperation in his voice, feel the tears so close to the surface and he took a deep breath, forcing the despair back down.

'She will need to be admitted, I'm afraid. She is a danger to herself, a danger to you and, more importantly as far as the Ministry is concerned, she is a danger to the ISS2. Hospitalization is mandatory in cases like these, I'm afraid.' Mornay rose from his stool and picked up his bag.

'She will sleep until tomorrow; I will speak to my colleagues at St Mungo's tonight and make sure there is a place available for her.' He paused. 'I can come by tomorrow and take her there if it would feel more comfortable…'

'No!' Draco exclaimed 'No, I shall get her there.'

Mornay turned to leave, but paused and turned back. Reaching into his bag once more and retrieving several bottles of pale blue potion. _'Calming Draught,'_ Draco thought.

'There is no certainty that she will recognise you when she wakes; if she becomes hysterical give her one of these.' Mornay deposited the bottles on the counter in front of him. 'And fire-call me should you need anything, Draco,' the man insisted and a dry, wrinkled hand landed compassionately on Draco's shoulder.

Draco nodded but didn't look up as the Healer saw himself out of the Manor. He was still sitting at the counter as dawn's first light began to filter through the tall kitchen windows.

***

At dawn Draco abandoned his silent vigil and made his way to his rooms, after having instructed the house-elves to pack a bag for his mother for a fortnight's stay and to wake him the very moment his mother rose. He hoped that he might be able to grab a few hours sleep, the tiredness that had accompanied the war having returned with a vengeance.

Sleep remained elusive, however, and the few moments he was able to catch were haunted by his mother's desperate screams. Eventually he gave up and stepped out onto the balcony with a strong cup of coffee, allowing the gentle spring breeze to offer what refreshment it could as he waited for his mother to wake.

It was with a mix of relief and trepidation that Draco approached his mother's rooms on the house-elves' announcement that she had risen. Knocking at her door, he paused briefly, before heading inside without awaiting an answer. His mother was sitting on the sofa, sipping tea from a delicate cup and Draco was relieved to see the flare of recognition in her eyes.

'Draco,' she smiled, 'to what do I owe this pleasure?' and for a moment Draco was stumped. What was he going to tell her? How was he going to get her to agree to accompany to the hospital?

Draco sat in the armchair near his mother and considered his options. She didn't rush him for an answer and after a moment, he realised that she was staring out of the window. He shuffled in his chair slightly and her eyes turned on him sharply.

'I'm sorry, darling, what were we talking about?' she asked, confused.

'You were asking if I would go with you, to see one of your friends who had been taken ill,' he explained smoothly, trying desperately to cover the guilt he felt for tricking his mother.

'Oh yes, of course,' she agreed, apparently happy with the lie. 'So, what do you say?'

'Of course, Mother, I would be happy to accompany you,' he agreed, the lie sticking in his throat. 'Are you ready to go?' he asked, not wanting to give her the opportunity to forget this again.

'Of course,' she nodded, 'Thank you, Draco, you're a good boy,' she said as she rose and took his proffered arm. As they headed for the Floo, the cold guilt that her casual praise had caused was swirling in Draco's gut.

Narcissa's calm lasted all the way to the elevator at St Mungo's, but as the doors slid shut in front of them, it was as if they wiped away her memory with them. Roughly, she pulled her arm free from Draco's as she span frantically.

'Where am I? What's going on? Who are you?' she yelled hysterically before dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around her head.

'It's okay, it's okay,' Draco soothed, as he crouched next to her and rubbed a calming hand across her back. 'I'm here to help you,' he reassured. 'It's Draco.' As he whispered gentle words to her, he fished into his jacket pocket, pulling out the pale blue vial. 'Here, drink this,' he directed, and before she had chance to question or protest, he poured the potion down her throat and watched its demulcent effects.

Carefully, Draco pulled her to her feet and led her towards the double doors of the Janus Thickey ward.

The nurses were kind as Draco explained the situation. They had been made aware of their newest arrival and made sure all was prepared. Mornay had, apparently, made sure that a private room had been set aside for Narcissa and Draco waited patiently as the nurses led her away to get her settled.

Draco sat in the patient's lounge and took in the ward that was to be his mother's home from now on. Colourful pictures lined the walls of the large room where he was currently sitting in a slightly overstuffed armchair. Shelves filled with books and games lined one wall and one of the Muggle moving picture boxes sat in one corner, with a few couches and armchairs grouped around it.

Despite the apparent comfort of this ward, there was an underlying tiredness to the entire room which Draco couldn't help but turn his nose up at ever so slightly. In addition the all pervasive sterile smell of Mrs Miggin's Magical Mess Remover, combined with a stodgy smell that could only be hospital food, helped him to decide that the moment he returned home, he was going to make sure a substantial contribution was made towards the upkeep of the Janus Thickey ward.

'You can go in and see her now.' The petite blond nurse smiled at Draco, and he tried his hardest not to scowl back.

When he entered his mother's room, it was to see his mother sitting in the wing-back chair beside her bed. A book was open on her lap and she was staring at it blankly. She looked up when she heard him and smiled at him openly. Draco's heart caught in his throat and he knelt in front of her, taking her hand in both of his.

'It's okay, Draco,' she said quietly. 'I know why I'm here; the nurses explained it to me.' Draco looked down, ashamed that he hadn't been able to offer his mother the truth. She caught his chin, however, lifting his face to meet his eyes. 'None of this is your fault, Draco, none of it. You did everything you could.'

'Mother…' he began, but she cut across him.

'No, Draco, you need to hear this, we don't know how much time I have.' Her eyes flashed with panic, as she anticipated the inevitable loss of her lucidity. 'No matter what I might say at another time, I don't blame you for any of this. I love you, Draco, and I'm proud of you, you've always made me so proud. You need to know that.'

The tears that were beginning to appear in his mother's eyes were too much for Draco and he dragged his eyes away, looking, once more, at her clasped hands and allowing the minutes to slip by.

'Sweetheart, I need you to go now,' she said suddenly. 'The nurses here will take good care of me but I need you to go, I don't need you to see me…' she paused, unable to know exactly what label to put on it.

Heart breaking, Draco nodded, determined to respect his mother's wishes. Carefully he rose to his feet and stooped to kiss her cheek, whispering words of love into her ear, before backing out of the room. He hadn't even reached the double doors before his mother's panicked screams started again and the tears began to roll silently down his face as he slipped out of the ward.

He returned to the Manor at sunset, having spent the afternoon sitting on a bench in a small cemetery and looking out over a small town, which existed in the shadow of the monolithic chimneys of a factory. It was there that he had allowed himself to cry, his tears mingling with the fragrant spring rain that had begun to fall, the refreshing droplets cooling his hot cheeks.

As he had returned to his rooms, he severely doubted that there was anything that could calm his frayed nerves, but it would appear that he'd been wrong. The sight of the small, patient barn owl caused the tiniest spark of hope in his chest, and the tightly furled scroll containing a time, date and location, detailed in a loopy, haphazard script, was enough to fan the tiny flame.

1 I know that this was originally written by Neil Finn of Crowded House, but the Dixie Chicks version does have some significant alterations to the lyrics and that is the version which has been quoted here.

2 This would be the International Statue of Secrecy and not the International Space Station, as Narcissa did not train as an astronaut; nor does she have access to missiles that could be fired into near space.


	6. Chapter 5 Kill or Cure

Disclaimer: Not mine, I only wish it were.

A/N: Well it's a little later than I normal but at least its still a Friday.

Chapter 5

Kill or Cure

_All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see_

_Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_Got to open my eyes to everything._

_Without thought, without voice, without a soul_

_Don't let me die here_

_There must be something more_

_Bring me to life_

_Bring me to life – Evanescence_

Tuesday May 26th 1998, Grimmauld Place, London

As Harry pulled the last of his shirts from his closet again, he came to one very simple realisation: he had no idea what to wear. This was something of a novel feeling for him. It had only been couple of weeks previously that everything he had owned, which was not in someway related to his school clothing, had been ludicrously large on him. In addition, his previous wardrobe had the unfortunate tendency to make him look like a bit of a yob, thanks to Dudley's own personal fashion tastes.

He spared himself a long look in the mirror and immediately began to remove the over-dyed blue jeans and red shirt.

'Looks like I'm trying too hard,' he mumbled to Archimedes, who had settled on top of the wardrobe to watch him speculatively. 'I don't want him to think this means anything more to me than it does to him,' he explained to the owl, before rummaging once more through the pile of discarded clothes. 'Though Merlin only knows what that is,' he mused, extracting a pair of artfully ripped faded jeans and allowing his head to fall to one side as he considered them.

Archie hooted with what Harry took to be approval and he pulled the jeans on before hunting for a suitable shirt and wondering what had ever possessed him to arrange this meeting in the first place. Selecting a white linen shirt, he pulled it on. _'Better,'_ he thought, considering his appearance again. Still, his hand stroked over his bare arms, the tanned skin littered with hundreds of small scars, and he wondered if he shouldn't choose something with longer sleeves to cover them up.

'Fuck it,' he muttered and turned away, to begin returning his rejected clothes to his wardrobe. _'Draco Malfoy is going to have to take me as I come,'_ he thought and then blushed and chuckled darkly at the innuendo.

T-minus twenty minutes and Harry found himself standing before the bathroom mirror, trying desperately to comb his hair. He needed to leave in exactly five minutes to allow himself to arrive nonchalantly late without simply appearing rude. His hair had never been the most co-operative part of his appearance, however, and he had no idea why he had dared to hope that it would suddenly decide to comply today.

Withdrawing the comb, he decided to compromise and stuck three fingers into the tub of gel, running it through his hair and ruffling it as he went. If he couldn't make it do what he wanted, then he would at least try to pretend that he chose to wear it this way. Rinsing his hands, he carefully fingered the still sore skin of his jaw; the bruising had reduced significantly with salves and Harry applying another healing spell the following morning, and to be fair, going from a broken jaw to a bruise in a week was impressive. Still, he wished that there was something that he could do to get rid of the greyish yellow stippling that covered his jaw; however, even magic could only do so much.

As he made his way towards the front door, he preformed the odd little ritual of patting himself down, confirming the location of wallet, complete with Muggle money, keys, since he would be walking to meet Draco, and wand, tucked into the waist-band of his jeans.

In his head he heard Moody chastise him about improper storage and the chance that he would lose a buttock and he felt the familiar pull of guilt at the Auror's demise. He needed his wand where he could easily reach it, however, if a buttock was the price would be forced to pay for piece of mind, then so be it. He smiled grimly to himself as he stepped out into the warm spring day.

The walk to the coffee shop, in an exclusive shopping district of Muggle London, was a pleasant one and Harry felt calmed as he watched the mothers with push chairs trying to corral wilful toddlers and suited business people bustling about him on their lunch breaks and he appreciated that for once in his life he could take things at his own pace.

He arrived at the designated cafe only five minutes late and, as he had suspected, Draco was nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure what had given him the impression but he suspected that Draco was the sort of person who kept his own time, whilst demanding rigid punctuality from others. He had no basis at all for the assumption, of course; it was just a gut feeling.

He waited impatiently, leaning against the telephone box with an air of feigned equanimity. As the minutes slid by he began to question what it was he was doing here. He and Draco had been enemies for years, had hated each other on sight, and had taken every single opportunity to insult or belittle the other. What had made him think that one shared moment was going to undo all those years of mutual hostility?

Draco was going to arrive, they were going to drink coffee as they shifted between silence and uncomfortable small talk for an hour, then excuses would be made, and they would leave; the friendship would be over before it began. Harry scolded himself, he always rushed into things. This was too soon; this should have developed naturally, over time, now it was going to be awkward and horrible. May be he should just leave now, send his apologies to Malfoy, and tell him Teddy was sick or something like that?

'Hey, Harry, been waiting long?' A smooth upper class voice dragged Harry from his spiralling descent into panic and he looked up to meet cool grey eyes that looked slightly wearier than they had previously. An apologetic smile graced the handsome face, though Draco didn't even come close to verbally acknowledging his tardiness and it was this that put Harry back on sure footing again.

'Not long,' he admitted and gestured towards the entrance following Draco, taking the time to appreciate the way that the other boy managed to make his dark blue jeans, long sleeved grey-blue t-shirt and corduroy jacket look so effortlessly elegant. As Draco reached to open the door the edge of his jacket rose slightly revealing the winged Armani logo on the hem of his shirt and Harry grinned. Draco was a label whore. This was something that fit comfortably with the image of Draco he'd always had and Harry drew a surprising amount of comfort from that.

The inside of the café was filled with the scents of fresh coffee and cake and Harry breathed deeply savouring the familiar atmosphere. They ordered their drinks and Harry led them, weaving through the tables towards the back of the café where two comfy armchairs sat in front of an ornate looking fireplace, small white fairy lights clustered in the grate.

In this small corner, the incessant chatter of the patrons, the clatter of the china and the hiss of the steam dulled into a calm thrum of background noise. Harry immediately took the chair with the best view of the door.

'Old habits die hard, don't they?' Draco commented with a sad smile, as he slid into the other arm chair and curled his long legs underneath him. Harry wondered what he was referring to, until he realised that were he to close his eyes, he would be able to tell Draco exactly who was where in the coffee shop and who they should be wary of.

The man sitting in the window, for example, had no paper and was staring intently at his mug, clearly psyching himself up for something. Harry was certain it was something innocent; he was probably going to give his boss a piece of his mind when he returned to work, but until he left, Harry was going to remain aware.

'You know I don't even realise I'm doing it anymore,' Harry admitted, slightly embarrassed that his paranoia had been spotted.

'It's alright,' Draco reassured, 'I do it, too. Notice the guy by the window?' He grinned slyly when Harry nodded.

'What do you reckon?' Draco continued. 'Quitting his job, breaking up with his girlfriend, or holding up the coffee shop?' he asked.

Harry grinned back. Paranoia was never half as embarrassing when the other person was paranoid, too.

'I'd say his boss is going to get a nasty surprise, though I suppose it's possible his girlfriend might because he's clearly gay,' Harry speculated and was rewarded when Draco snorted inelegantly into his coffee. 'If he is going to go for option three, however, I can't help but pity him.' Harry paused and turned to meet amused grey eyes. 'Because with the two of us here, he really doesn't stand a chance.'

Draco chuckled. 'No, I think we've had enough practice on each other over the years to fully perfect our creative hex work.' Draco continued to hold Harry's gaze for a moment before it slipped towards the marked area of Harry's jaw and a small frown creased the pale brow.

'Harry, what happened to your face?'

Harry's hand drifted instinctively to his tender jaw and rubbed the affected area.

'Ron,' he explained simply and watched as Draco's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, giving Harry just a glimpse of straight, white teeth, before he realised that he was staring at Draco's mouth and dropped his gaze to the table again.

'The Weasel hit you?' Draco asked, the pitch of his voice rising in surprise and, to Harry's immense pleasure, a touch of anger. Still, he prickled slightly at the insulting nickname and thought for a moment about chastising Draco, before realising that the venom which had issued from Ron the week before was much more offensive than a simple nickname; he decided to let it go.

'He did,' Harry confirmed with a nod of his head. He realised that he rather enjoyed Draco being horrified on his behalf and so decided to elaborate. 'He punched me in the face, breaking my jaw, and kicked me, breaking a rib.' He placed a hand over his chest where the footprint-shaped bruise had long since dissipated, thanks to his own effectiveness with healing charms.

'What the fuck did he do that for?' Draco's anger caused something warm to curl in Harry's chest.

'Because I broke up with his sister,' Harry explained, finally accepting that he may have been slightly culpable for Ron's reaction. Draco's anger faded into confusion and Harry mourned its loss slightly.

'I thought you broke up last year?' Draco asked suddenly.

'Yeah, we did but… wait, how did you know that?' Harry asked, confused; he really couldn't imagine that Draco had the opportunity to keep up with the Hogwarts rumour mill last year. Draco flushed slightly.

'I was back there last year, for a couple of months in the autumn,' Draco explained and Harry was surprised at just how easily they had strayed into what, for any one else, was a forbidden subject. 'Not for long, of course, but he tried to use me to spy on the other students. Stupid fucking plan,' he spat bitterly, 'as if any of them were going to trust me, and of course by then I was loath passing on what little information I could garner.' He paused and sipped at his coffee and Harry watched, mesmerised, as the tip of a pink tongue appeared to swipe foamy milk from his lip.

'Anyway, I was wandering around one evening and I heard voices coming from an alcove near the library. It was the Weaselette,' he explained. 'She was talking to that blond boy, Smith?' he asked, looking at Harry for confirmation. 'Anyway, the one who looks a little like a pig,' Draco elaborated, and it was Harry's turn to issue an inelegant snort.

'Yes, that's the one,' Draco said mischievously before becoming serious again. 'Anyway, I heard your name mentioned and I…' a pink tinge crept onto Draco's face, 'I eavesdropped.' Something heavy settled in Harry's stomach as realisation hit him hard.

'It's okay, Draco,' Harry explained quickly, 'we all had to do things to survive that we wouldn't have done under normal circumstances,' he explained.

A look of horror settled on Draco's face and he shook his head rapidly, causing blond hair to fall into his eyes. Harry longed to reach forward and brush it back.

'No, shit, no that wasn't what I…,' he paused, taking a breath. 'I wasn't trying to gather information for him, Harry. I was looking for a little hope, was all,' he explained, looking intently at the table. 'From the moment they took the Manor, I promised myself that I would help you in any way possible. Your side weren't just going to believe me, however, so I had to get information wherever I could.'

'Oh,' Harry said, knowing his response was completely inadequate but it was all he could get past the fluttering that was occurring in his chest. 'Well thank…' He was immediately cut off by a stern look from Draco, which very clearly said, _'Don't!'_

'I'm sure I had a point to this story,' Draco said vaguely, after a moment or two's silence. Harry gazed off towards the front of the café, trying to reclaim the errant threads of their conversation from the air.

'Ginny, you were surprised that we'd broken up,' Harry said triumphantly, looking back at Draco.

'Yes, well, she was there in that alcove, with Smith, and they were getting awfully friendly, if you catch my drift,' Draco added pointedly, 'and he asked about you, and she told him that the two of you had split up,' he explained.

Harry smiled darkly.

'We had,' Harry confirmed. 'I knew that, Hermione knew that, hell, even you knew that, but it would seem that Ginny had conveniently forgotten that fact. I went to talk to her about it and she started spouting all this crap about how we were supposed to get married and have kids.'

'Fuck,' Draco whispered in a tone that was something akin to awe. 'Is she completely deranged?' he asked and Harry couldn't help but laugh as Draco reached across the table and grasped his hand in both of his, adopting a mock earnest expression.

'Look, Harry, I know you've just got done saving the world and all. And I know we haven't seen each other in a year, whilst you've been running around the country destroying Voldemort. And I know I've been shacked up with a Hufflepuff with the hygiene habits of a farmyard animal. But you've had two weeks to get over this now, so it's time for you to marry and impregnate me.' Draco looked at him expectantly, still managing not to crack a smile, so Harry decided to play along and he covered Draco's hands with his still-free right hand.

'Well, with an offer like that, how could I possibly refuse?' Harry responded dramatically, holding Draco's gaze for a moment before they both fell back in their chairs laughing. As the laughter faded Harry stretched out in his chair and admired Draco's flushed cheeks and easy smile as he peered into his now empty coffee cup and with a grace that Harry could only dream of extracted himself from the deep armchair.

'Same again?' he asked, eyebrow quirked in a delicate arch as he pointed towards Harry's cup. Harry blinked, slightly surprised and then nodded his assent.

'Thanks,' he agreed and relaxed in his chair as he watched Draco walk up to lean casually on the counter and flirt with the barista. His gaze slid appreciatively over the other man's body. Having discarded his jacket on the back of his chair, Harry was able to fully appreciate the way the pale blue t-shirt clung to the muscles of his arms and torso. The dark jeans were neither too tight nor too baggy and showed off his arse beautifully. Harry found himself cocking his head slightly as he considered it and realised only a moment too late that Draco had caught him looking.

The shit-eating smirk that was plastered to Draco's face as he returned to their table with the mugs of coffee caused Harry's face to flush and after thanking Draco for his drink, he struggled for the first thing he could think of to say before Draco got chance to ask, no doubt smugly, what he had been looking at.

'So you know how my week has been, what about you?' Harry asked and he saw Draco's smile falter and fade.

'What, what is it?' he asked, the joviality of the moment before completely forgotten, as he regarded Draco's somewhat ashen face. Draco appeared to be fighting something of an internal battle with himself, as he stared at the table and Harry reasoned that it was probably his pride fighting his desire to share. Eventually Draco leaned backwards and fixed him with an expression that spoke volumes about the fate would that befall Harry should he even think about betraying his trust.

'It's my mother,' he said at last and Harry waited, patiently sipping his coffee, for Draco to elucidate further.

'She was taken ill this week,' Draco explained. 'She's been admitted to a hospital.'

'Do you mind if I ask what's wrong?' Harry asked, wanting Draco to talk but not wanting to pry if it were a delicate matter.

'Irreversible spell damage,' Draco said, exhaling heavily, 'Imperius and Obliviate, mother could be somewhat recusant at times.' A small smile played over Draco's lips as he though of his mother and Harry felt himself matching it, thinking of the help Narcissa had given him in the forest. 'But now she's losing her memory,' Draco continued, sadly.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, recalling the passage he had read on Imperius spell damage in one of the few medical textbooks he had managed to extract from the Black library before they had begun their journey last year.

'I know the condition.' Harry nodded sadly, and Draco looked up at him surprised.

'You do?'

'Mmm hmm,' Harry said, deciding not to elaborate, having read about it in a book couldn't even compare to what Draco must be going through.

'She was admitted to St Mungo's a week ago but I moved her at the weekend. I found this nice little hospital in Cornwall. All the residents have their own rooms, there are more staff, they have a garden too that looks out over the sea.' He paused. 'Mother always loved gardening,' he added, but Harry had a distinct feeling that he was talking to himself.

'Have you been to see her?' Harry asked carefully, not sure how advanced Narcissa's condition was and not sure if Draco knew how it was likely to progress.

'I go most days,' he admitted, 'but it's not always worth it. Some days she recognises me, some days she doesn't even remember she has a son.' Draco gazed up at the ceiling, eyes suspiciously bright and Harry did him the courtesy of looking away. 'Funnily enough it's the days that she does recognise me that are the hardest. She doesn't remember why she's there and begs me to take her home with me.'

'When I went yesterday, she was having trouble forming sentences,' Draco admitted. 'I spoke to the Healer there; he said the progression was really aggressive, very rapid, he's not sure how much longer her lucidity will remain and after that goes…' He closed his eyes, clearly unable to verbalise the inevitable conclusion to that sentence just yet.

'Fuck, Draco I'm so sorry. That's just awful. After everything you've been through, your mother's been through…' Harry trailed off. There were so many people who deserved better than the post-war world offered them but did recognising it really make it any better?

Draco finally met his eyes again and gave him a small sad smile.

'At least I got a little longer with her,' he said pointedly, silver eyes flashing with intensity and Harry realised that Draco was thanking him. Harry coloured and inspected his shoes.

A brief silence fell over them, and Harry recognised it immediately; they had reached the Rubicon. If they could find a way past this silence, they would be fine; if not, then that would be it.

'You know, I still don't understand why the Weasel decided that beating up the Boy Who Lived would help matters, for that matter how in the name of Merlin did he manage to beat you up? It's an incredible mismatch, you know?'

'Ah well, Hermione described Ron once as having the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Anger is one of the few emotions he actually understands,' Harry reviled. Squashing down the wave of guilt he felt at insulting his oldest friend and smiling when Draco chuckled darkly.

'As for how he managed it, I sort of let him,' Harry admitted, realising the truth as he said it.

'Why would you do that?' Draco asked, cup paused halfway to his mouth, a look of horror on his face.

'To get it over with? To keep the high ground? Because I felt I deserved it? Any and or all of the above?' Harry shrugged and Draco shook his head disbelievingly.

'You really are sickeningly noble at times, you know that?' Draco said, exasperated.

'It's been said,' Harry admitted. 'It's just Ron's a very tactile person, he'll feel guilty in a few days and he'll apologise when he gets back,' Harry explained.

'And you'll accept it, won't you?' Draco asked with a touch of awe.

'Sure, as long as he means it, we're friends, and friends forgive each other,' Harry said and realised that he was no longer talking about Ron. He smiled warmly at Draco and was rewarded by the most beautiful, unguarded smile he had ever seen; his heart leapt.

He was blushing again, and he glanced around the coffee shop in the hope of a mild distraction. He was surprised to find, that at some point in his conversation with Draco, he had become completely unaware of his surroundings. The bustle in the Café was gone, as had the clientele; most of the chairs had been stacked on the tables and the girl who had looked so delighted when Draco had flirted with her earlier, was now looking rather irritable. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was ten minutes to six. The shop would be closing in a moment, and the girl looked like she already had one foot out the door.

'I think we've outstayed our welcome.' Harry smirked at Draco and was delighted to see the utter surprise register on the other boy's face when he realised how long they had been talking.

Harry gathered up their cups and deposited them on the counter as Draco shot the girl an ingratiating smile, to be rewarded by the softening of the scowl. In front of the coffee shop Harry watched as Draco dithered for a moment in a most un-Malfoy like way before realising the problem and offering a solution.

'If you don't have anything to do this evening, you could come back to my place,' he suggested. 'I'll make us something to eat, and I think I have a couple of bottles of elderflower champagne in the cupboard. We can celebrate the end of our enmity, what do you say?' Harry was instantly rewarded by another bright smile.

'You can cook? Really? I don't believe you,' he challenged. 'I'm going to have to accept your offer now just so that you don't continue to spread such fallacious hyperbole about yourself. You're already a hero for crying out loud, you start laying claim to domestic talents as well and the rest of us are doomed.'

Harry grinned at Draco's heartfelt and enthusiastic acceptance.

'Prepare to eat your words, Malfoy,' Harry teased. 'Which tonight, will be served with the best braised shoulder of lamb you have ever tasted!' he boasted, after quickly running a mental inventory of the contents of his kitchen.

Draco smiled at him gratefully and Harry pointed them in the direction of his home. As they walked back through the city the noises of traffic and the smells of the restaurants starting to prepare began to fade, to be replaced by the sound of children laughing and shouting in the parks and the scent of grass and the odd barbeque. They walked silently side by side and Harry couldn't help but sneak the occasional sidelong glance at Draco, watching as the breeze lifted his hair occasionally, causing it to dance around his face.

As they turned into Grimmauld Place, Draco's demeanour altered slightly and Harry felt obliged to ask what was on his mind.

'I thought this place was under Fidelius?' he asked cautiously, 'At least that's what mother always told him, Snape too.'

'It was, but Dumbledore was the secret keeper and when he died…' Harry thought briefly about saying something to set Draco at ease, but dismissed all possible platitudes, deciding that acknowledging Draco's discomfort at this point would simply exacerbate it. So he simply headed up the steps and unlocked the door.

When he turned, Draco was still standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the house diffidently.

'I didn't kill him,' he blurted suddenly, and Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

'I know,' he stated in what he hoped was a reassuring tone and added, 'Coming?' giving a flick of his head to encourage Draco inside.

It was Draco's turn to look surprised now, but he forsook comment and followed Harry up the stairs and into the house.

'Kitchen's this way.' Harry pointed after he'd removed his wallet and keys from his pockets and dropped them into the dish by the door. Draco followed with something of a wide eyed curiosity as he took in his surroundings.

Once in the kitchen, Harry turned his attention to the preparation of their dinner, deciding to give Draco a chance to settle. He was just ready to begin searing the lamb when Draco finally spoke from his place at the kitchen table.

'This place is nothing like I remember it,' he said conversationally and Harry looked at him, surprised.

'You've been here before?' Harry asked, trying to think when Draco could possibly have had cause to be inside Grimmauld.

'I was... maybe seven?' Great Aunt Walburga fell very ill and Mother wanted to come and see her, in case it was the last time.' A small wicked smile played over Draco's lips and Harry was grateful to see it. 'Or perhaps it was in the hope that it was the last time,' he snickered. 'She was an evil old bat!'

Harry grinned. 'I know, I had to deal with her portrait for two years, that woman was venomous,' he agreed.

'Why didn't you just take the portrait down?'

'Permanent Sticking Charm,' Harry explained. 'In the end I had to remove all the panelling to get her down.' He then paused wondering if he should tell Draco about Walburga's fate. She may not have been his favourite aunt but still, he might not appreciate how disrespectfully she was being treated.

'What did you do with her?' Draco asked, an evil glint in his eye.

'She's in the shed,' Harry explained, delighted when Draco exploded with laughter.

'Serves her right,' he said darkly. 'So, what happened to this place? Last time I was here it was like a Dark Arts museum. Before we came, I distinctly remember my mother telling me to 'eat nothing, drink nothing, touch nothing,' in one of her very stern voices.'

'I thought it could do with a little renovation,' Harry explained, sliding the casserole dish into the oven and retrieving the champagne and glasses.

'You did a good job,' Draco said admiringly and smiled warmly as Harry popped the cork and poured two glasses of the sweet, fizzy liquid before sliding into the chair opposite Draco and sipping his drink. The effervescence of it, combined with Harry's lack of anything resembling real food since breakfast that morning, caused the alcohol to go straight to his head.

Harry had to wonder at the acumen of getting drunk around someone towards whom he was barely able to control his tactile desires whilst fully sober. '_Fuck it,_' he thought and took another long sip.

'Where did you get this from?' Draco asked suddenly, breaking the rather comfortable silence that had settled in the kitchen.

'Molly Weasley,' Harry explained. 'When I moved back here after the battle she gave me this enormous hamper of food; she was concerned that I was going to starve.' Harry rolled his eyes and was surprised when Draco gave something that sounded curiously like a giggle.

'You're close with the Weasleys, aren't you?' Draco's tone was contemplative and Harry didn't miss the fact that he abandoned the derogatory nickname.

'I was,' Harry agreed darkly. 'I should imagine that they are collectively planning my murder right now, though.

'Does Ginny have the chance of winning her way back into your good graces, you know in the long run?' Draco asked mildly and Harry was forced to clamp his hand over his mouth to avoid spraying Draco with his drink.

'Hell no,' Harry remonstrated. 'Definitely not, I'm fond of her family and everything but if that's the price I'm going to have to pay for my freedom then so be it,' he continued somewhat passionately.

'Well, it's not like you're stuck for choice after all,' Draco ruminated as Harry rose to check on their meal and began dishing up.

'You are the 'Boy Who Lived' after all,' Draco continued, managing to inject just enough contempt into his media-styled title, to remind Harry that he was talking to a Malfoy. 'I'm sure the girls will be lining up for a chance to be your girlfriend,' he added and Harry detected the smallest touch of bitterness in his voice.

Harry gathered plates and cutlery and rejoined Draco at the table, sliding his plate towards him before he offered an answer.

'To be honest, I just don't think I have much luck with women,' Harry mused, spearing a potato.

'Ah yes, the Cho thing.' Draco nodded knowledgeably as he began to attack his dinner.

'How do you know about that?' Harry sputtered, earning himself an eye roll in return.

'Come on, Harry, I'm a Slytherin, gossip is what we were born for,' Draco enthused, somewhat dramatically and Harry laughed.

'I'm serious, you name any person in our year and I will tell you what the gossip about them is,' Draco smirked.

'Okay,' Harry mused, drawing out the word as he tried to think.

'Seamus Finnigan,' Harry settled on suddenly, really wanting to play this game and not wanting to stump Draco on his first try.

'Well I heard it from Millicent, who heard it from a girl in the year below us, but apparently he really likes being spanked.' Draco raised a punctuating eyebrow and Harry groaned.

'No, no, you're making it up, or at least I hope you are,' Harry groaned and Draco grinned.

'I'm not claiming its true, that's just the gossip that's circulating about him,' Draco defended.

'Okay then, Neville Longbottom,' Harry said, driven by a somewhat sick curiosity.

'Having an affair with Professor Sprout,' Draco offered, smiling lazily

'Oh man, that's just wrong. Anthony Goldstein,' Harry tried looking for someone a little more obscure and trying to stump Draco. The other boy's eyes flashed as he recognised the challenge and he leaned smugly back in his chair.

'Now this one is interesting, rumour is that Goldstein has an odd looking…' and he held up his index finger, wiggling it demonstratively.

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he thought about that for a moment.

'That one's true.' Harry nodded and Draco's eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly.

'And you know that because…?' he asked, barely able to keep the laughter from his voice.

'Oh, shit, no, nothing like that' Harry protested, laughing as he caught up with what Draco was assuming. 'Goldstein, he's going to be Jewish isn't he?' Harry explained but Draco just frowned.

'I don't know what that is or why it would make a difference,' Draco pointed out.

'Of course,' Harry nodded and was suddenly hit with the realisation that he was sitting in his kitchen eating lamb, drinking champagne and explaining the intricacies of Judaism to Draco Malfoy. He wanted to say stranger things had happened but he wasn't sure they had.

'Judaism is a Muggle religion,' Harry explained, 'and when the boys are born they get…' Harry made a cutting motion with his fingers. 'Goldstein is a Jewish name so I imagine Anthony's been circumcised.'

'That's barbaric!' Draco protested, a horrified look on his face.

'Apparently they barely feel it,' Harry explained, deflecting Draco's indignation.

'But why?' the other boy implored, still looking slightly green.

'That, I don't know, tradition?' he suggested, shrugging

Draco closed his eyes and shook his head with an exaggerated shiver.

'I will never understand Muggles,' he confirmed definitively, 'and now I'm no longer sure that I want to.'

'Let's move you back into your comfort zone, more gossip?' Harry suggested. 'Parvati Patil?' he asked, pleased when Draco's cunning smile returned.

'Has a very 'close' relationship with her twin,' Draco implied. Harry laughed again.

'You're fucking evil, Draco.'

'So they say.' Draco smirked.

An hour later they found themselves curled on Harry's comfy leather sofa with fresh cups of coffee. Each occupied their own end and their feet drawn underneath them as the turned to face each other. The jocular high spirits of the dinner table had faded leaving behind a comfortable companionship which Harry was rather delighted with.

'You said before that you knew about Dumbledore,' Draco clarified, breaking the silence and Harry nodded, no longer frightened that addressing such a potentially emotional subject would be anything but easy with Draco.

'I did,' he confirmed.

'How?' Draco asked, though Harry could see that he already knew the answer.

'I was there, under my cloak,' he explained. 'We'd been out on a mission and Dumbledore had been injured. I was just on my way to get help when you appeared and he froze me in place.'

'So you saw everything?' Draco asked, refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

'I did,' he confirmed and Draco gave a sad little smile.

'So, that's why you've been so quick to forgive me,' he muttered.

'I think I would have forgiven you either way Draco,' Harry said, only realising the truth of the statement as it passed his lips. 'I know you didn't choose to do that stuff for the fun of it, your family were at risk. If someone were threatening the Weasleys or Hermione, I can't say that I would have done any different.'

Draco glanced at the wall clock and issued a pained sigh.

'I suppose I should probably get going,' he suggested, struggling to his feet only to fall back down again as the alcohol he had consumed soundly reasserted itself.

'You don't have to, you know,' Harry said, and realised that admitting he had noticed Draco's discomfort at the thought of his home, might not be the best idea. 'Besides, I'm not sure I can allow you to Apparate in that condition. You'll splinch yourself,' he covered as smoothly as he could manage.

Draco eyed him wearily for a moment before appearing to give in.

'You really don't mind?' he asked and Harry shook his head.

'The Manor was never a particularly busy or noisy place,' Draco explained leaning slowly back in the cushion and stretching out so his feet lay next to Harry's thigh. 'Until last year, I suppose,' Draco added darkly and a shadow fell across his face as he thought of Voldemort's intrusion. 'But before that, it wasn't like we spent all our time together when I was home,' he continued and Harry found himself beginning to stroke the beautifully arched foot absently.

'Days would go by where I wouldn't see either one of my parents from dawn to dusk,' he continued, allowing his head to drop back against the arm of the sofa. When the journey of Harry's hand stilled, because he was focusing intently on the sharp angles and smooth lines of Draco's jaw, Draco nudged his hand until the stroking resumed.

'Still, even then it didn't feel like it does now, it feels empty, everything echoes and it's cold all the time.' As Draco explained, Harry lost himself in watching the bobbing of the other boy's Adam's apple and found himself wondering what the smooth, creamy skin might taste like, were he to reach across and allow his mouth to explore the contours of Draco's throat.

'That sounds really stupid, doesn't it?' Draco asked, looking up at Harry sharply and Harry shook his head fiercely as much to clear his wandering imagination as to dispute Draco's sudden insecurity.

'It doesn't sound stupid at all,' Harry countered, struggling to form the words in his somewhat arid mouth. 'Bad events leave a scar on a place,' he reasoned, 'and the manor has seen its fair share of bad events.'

They lapsed back into silence again and before long Harry heard the deep even breathing that indicated Draco had fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, he carefully extricated himself from the sofa and regarded the sleeping Draco as the warm feeling swirled in his gut once more. Blond hair fanned across slightly flushed cheeks and a couple of strands stuck to his full, pink bottom lip.

Impulsively, Harry reached out to brush away the errant hair and was rewarded when Draco turned into the gentle touch, a small smile gracing the slightly open mouth. Harry smiled affectionately as he recovered a blanket and draped it over Draco before returning to his bedroom, already eagerly anticipating the Draco-related dreams that his subconscious was sure to reward him with.

-Well there we go they're finally in the same chapter. Reviews are greatly appreciated as this is my first ever chaptered fiction and I'd love some idea how it's going.


	7. Chapter 6 Negative Space

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: This chapter is rather sad and contains hint of abuse but nothing too severe I promise. Thanks to my wonderful editor saras_girl.

Chapter 6

Negative Space

_Last night it came as a picture_

_With a good reason a warning sign_

_This place is void of all passion_

_If you can imagine it's easy if you try_

_Should I go back, should I go back, should I_

_I feel alone and tired_

_Should I go back, should I go back, should I_

_I hope I won't forget you._

_Asthenia - Blink 182_

Monday June 22nd, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.

Dark clouds gathered over the distant Silbury Hill and the wind whipped up, carrying with it the scent of rain and lightning. Draco sat on his balcony and gratefully watched the storm roll in.

June had been an unbearably hot month and the break in the weather would be more than welcome. Draco had hoped, when the temperature had begun to climb, that he would finally be grateful for the unseasonable chill that had settled throughout the manor.

The contrast, however, had simply unsettled him further and he had taken to escaping into Harry's company with increasing frequency. Whilst this provided a welcome reprieve it was becoming harder to return to the solitude of the manor after the comforting familiarity of Grimmauld.

That was still surprising to him. Even though he had come to rely heavily on Harry's friendship, he couldn't quite comprehend how easily they had slipped in to the gratifying companionship which they now shared. It had been one month since their first… their first what? Draco's first inclination was to call it a date, but he wasn't sure if this was simply wishful thinking on his part. There had been indications from Harry, of course.

Draco had flirted with him rather furiously that day. It had been the very least he had been willing to allow himself, when he had spotted Harry leaning so casually against that Muggle contraption, looking like he'd stepped right out of one of Draco's more pleasant dreams. The white shirt had caused his tan appear even deeper and Draco had spent a good portion of their time together watching the muscles flex and tense in Harry's exposed forearms.

What he couldn't be certain of was whether Harry had been flirting back. He thought he might have been, Draco even thought that he might have caught Harry checking him out at one point, but he couldn't be completely sure. Normally this wouldn't matter to him but at the moment Harry was his only friend and he was far too important for Draco to screw up their relationship by making an ill-advised pass at him.

Their second date would normally have offered more than enough proof for Draco to make his move. Unfortunately, by then he had been hit by one of his unpredictable waves of insecurity and he could no longer force himself to cross the line, to take the risk.

Archimedes had arrived on the morning of the fifth with Harry's request that, if he didn't have anything better to do, he would love it if Draco could join him for tea that afternoon. It hadn't crossed his mind that Harry would even know when his birthday was, let alone actually have prepared a mini celebration. So he was understandably shocked when Harry presented him with tea and Birthday cake whilst sitting on Grimmauld's roof terrace, Cooling Charms set against the intense heat.

He had been even more surprised when Harry reached under his chair and produced a brightly wrapped box from beneath his invisibility cloak with a flourish.

'_Go on then, open it,' Harry urged as Draco stared at the box in his hands, dumbstruck._

_Draco's eyes gleamed with excitement before he began to tear ferociously at the blue paper and yank the lid free from the box. There inside, several items sat nestled in the shredded silver tissue paper. Draco picked up the largest item and began to turn it over slowly in his hands, inspecting the music disc device from all sides._

'_It's just like yours,' he said, slightly awed, and Harry nodded enthusiastically. Draco had been intrigued by the device ever since he had headed into the kitchen, following his night on Harry's sofa, only to discover Harry dancing around to some unheard music. Harry had eagerly explained the CD player, though Draco was unsure if this was to satisfy his curiosity, or to reduce Harry's own embarrassment at being caught in such a carefree moment._

'_I even did the charm on it so you won't need batteries,' Harry enthused, nudging the back of the device and Draco rolled his eyes._

'_You know, I think you talk about Muggle things just to keep me wrong footed,' Draco accused and was rewarded with Harry launching into a full description of what batteries were and how and why they were used. Draco loved it when Harry explained things. _

Usually, Draco hated having to admit that he didn't know something; it was a knock to his pride. With Harry, he would almost be willing to pretend he didn't know the things he did, if it gave Harry a chance to explain them. Explaining would always cause brightness to flare in his eyes, as well as a very special smile that Harry seemed to save for when he felt like he was helping someone. It was such an unrepentantly Gryffindor trait, but Merlin help him if Draco didn't find it adorable.

There had been music discs in the box, too, and, at the bottom, a leather wrist band. When Draco had pulled it from the box Harry had flushed and mumbled to himself about how it was probably stupid but he though it was cool. Draco hadn't said anything, he had simply slipped the band around his wrist and asked Harry about the music he had been gifted.

Later that evening, Harry had taken Draco out for dinner at an upmarket Muggle restaurant and made sure that there was just enough alcohol provided so that he had an excuse not to Apparate home again.

That was not the last time he had stayed with Harry, either. As the month wore on, Harry began to come up with more and more creative excuses for why it was that Draco couldn't or shouldn't go home. In the beginning, Harry had made up the spare room each time, as if he hadn't been expecting Draco to stay, continuing the charade that Draco had absolutely no fear of returning to his own home.

That had changed about a week ago when Draco had stumbled sleepily into the spare room to find that the book that he had been reading from the Black library had been left at his bedside. In addition, Draco's t-shirt and boxers, which he had apparently left behind a few days previously, had been laundered for him, carefully folded and left on the end of the bed. Draco had been touched by way Harry had calmly accepted him into his home with no fanfare at all.

That would change again after tonight. There would be far fewer excuses for Draco to stay over once he was living in London, and although he had started staying at Harry's to avoid the Manor, he couldn't pretend that he wouldn't miss Harry's company. They would still see each other, of course, but he would miss talking in hushed voices late into the night and the lazy breakfasts on the terrace in t-shirt and boxers, as they mused over their plans for the day.

He couldn't go on like this, however, it was getting so that the only sleep Draco got was at Grimmauld. Harry had been with Teddy for the past three days and Draco had managed to catch no more than three hours continuous sleep in that entire time. The sleep he did get was unsettled, troubled and he would often wake in a cold sweat.

The decision to close up the Manor and stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a spell had come to him at about one o'clock that morning, and not having anything else to do with his time, he had immediately put his plan into action. He ensured sure that jewellery and silver were removed to the family vault, that the more delicate antiques were packed away and the larger items protected from the dust.

By the time he had finished, he had worked right through the night and through most of the morning. He had asked for the house-elves to assemble in the ballroom after lunch and had explained to them what was happening.

A couple of the older elves would remain on to prevent the manor falling into disrepair. Harry had inspired his idea of what to do with the rest; those who wished freedom would be granted it, the rest would be sent to Hogwarts to help with the restorations.

There had been a great deal of sobbing and wringing of hands and twisting of ears at that but Draco had retreated to his rooms to pack and shrink his own belongings, letting the elves get on with adapting to the news in peace.

He had finished now; the innocuous looking rucksack was sitting at his feet containing everything he owned. The insides had been magically expanded to avoid crumpling his enormous wardrobe and he had been forced to apply a complex series of Lightening Charms to make it possible for him to lift it. Still, it was disconcerting to think that his entire life could fit in a bag, no matter how much magic had been used to make it happen.

He rose from his chair, preformed a quick Cleaning Spell of the oversized mug he had retrieved from the kitchen for his final cup of tea, and tucked the mug into the top of his rucksack. Swinging the bag up onto his shoulders, he began to move through the house, applying the heavy Locking Charms to the doors and windows.

The time first he was overwhelmed by memory was in his mother's room. He remembered how, as a teenager, he and his mother would take advantage of the times Lucius was away from home on business. They would sit in her rooms with tea and scones, whilst Draco would read to her for hours at a time.

She had once told him that, whilst they were courting, Lucius had read to her all the time. It had been one of the things that had made her fall in love with him. She had been bitterly disappointed that these quiet moments had faded as soon as the marriage had been consummated and, whilst she had never said so to Draco, he knew that her love for Lucius had faded entirely not long after.

As he paced the room, collecting a few stray items that he had a mind to move to his mother's new home, he couldn't help but wonder how she would feel about him abandoning the manor. Would she understand? Would she be disappointed at him running away? He would give anything to be able to ask her opinion but she no longer recognised him as her son. On good days she would recognise him as the nice boy who came to read to her occasionally and Draco would draw the tiniest bit of comfort from her distant smile on those occasions.

It was with reluctance, born from years of negative reinforcement, that Draco entered his father's study. He had no good memories of this room. As he checked the windows, the curtains shifted, releasing the scent of cigar smoke and whisky that caused Draco's stomach to tie in knots. He had been twelve when he had first learnt to fear this room.

He had returned from his first year at Hogwarts with excellent grades and had been proud of himself, until Lucius had informed him that Granger had beat him out to the top spot. He had been told that his failure might have been excused had he excelled at Quidditch but he hadn't even made the team.

Draco had tried desperately to excuse his shortcomings, had promised improvement and begged his father's understanding. He had been cut off by a slap to the face. The blow had been so hard that his vision had dimmed and he had fallen to his knees on the carpet, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. That was the last time he had ever pleaded with his father but was far from the last time he had ever been punished.

As his father had slipped further into madness, he would delight in mixing some of the crueller curses with his physical attacks, all of which were conducted with same detached iciness as the first. Draco did all he could to stay out of his way and in his favour, until he had begun to hurt his mother. Then Draco had tried for all he was worth to draw his fire, occasionally resorting to deliberate insubordination in order to distract him. Not that it had been enough in the end.

Draco withheld his checks of the most troubling room until last. As he stood outside the tall double doors of the main drawing room, he seriously considered not checking the room at all. Draco had not been in there since the end of the war, and he did not want to go in there now.

This room was the epicentre of the cold chill, the darkness and miasma which had spread though out the manor. This was the place where Voldemort had held court, where countless Muggles and Muggle-borns had been tortured and murdered, and though Draco was not a superstitious person he could feel their anguish, still hanging around the room like a shroud.

Steeling himself, he stepped forward. If he could face this room, just once, he could tell himself that he did not flee from his ancestral home as a coward. Placing his hands on the ornate bronze doorknobs he breathed deeply and pushed.

The heavy double doors swung inwards with a creak and a hiss and the chill rushed out to wrap around him forcing an involuntary shiver from Draco. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he stepped over the threshold of the room. Nothing had been touched. The furniture was still pushed haphazardly against the walls, to make room for the long wooden table in the centre, chairs still gathered around it.

He remembered the night he had fled from Hogwarts, his Aunt Bella dragging him into the drawing room by his collar and declaring his failure to the entire room. Voldemort's cruelty had a rival that night however. Given the chance by his Master to redeem himself by punishing failure, Lucius had delighted in placing Draco under Cruciatus and leaving him to writhe in pain for the amusement of the assembled Death Eaters.

There on the floor in front of him, a black mark marred the highly polished wood. His blood, left there after he had hit his head during a particularly violent convulsion. Still, he was well aware that he was one of the lucky ones.

As he approached the table, his head supplied the terrified screams of the countless victims who had not been so lucky. The air was heavy with the odour of copper and singed hair and a touch of sulphur and Draco suddenly felt very sick as he thought of the Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage.

Dumbledore may have been the first person he'd watched die but Professor Burbage was the first time Draco had seen how indiscriminate Voldemort was being. Regardless of how you felt about it, Dumbledore was a General in the war, much as Voldemort was. Professor Burbage had been innocent and Draco had been forced to watch as she had been cut down in the prime of her life.

Shaking his head furiously Draco cast the last few spells to secure the room and span on his heel marching back out into the hall way. Once there he pulled the doors shut firmly behind him.

'Colloportus Infinitus,' Draco whispered, pointing his wand at the doors and he watched as the surrounding gaps melted away, leaving nothing but blank wood in its place. The bronze handles fused and morphed until they formed a solid bar, reaching across the indentation of the door frame, preventing the doorway from ever being used again.

Draco hitched his rucksack a little higher on his back and made his way from the house. As he stood on the front step and activated the ancient Malfoy wards with a smear of his blood, the first promised drops of summer rain began to fall. By the time he reached the bottom of the drive, the rain had become a deluge.

Draco turned his face towards the fat, fragrant summer rain that was battering his skin and begged whom ever might be listening that the despair, which had entered his heart in the drawing room might be washed away. His thoughts drifted to Harry and he decided that although they weren't due to meet until tomorrow, the other boy wouldn't mind if he were to show up unannounced and right then he needed some company.

The first thing Draco noticed when he landed in the dark corner of the park opposite Grimmauld was that it wasn't raining in London. White fluffy clouds, tinged with orange from the slowly sinking sun, drifted lazily in a rich blue sky. Feeling slightly out of place, Draco darted out of his hiding spot and up the front steps, knocking firmly on the door. From within the depths of the house he heard what sounded like a squeak followed by approaching footsteps and Harry's muffled voice affecting a strange pitch.

'Who could that be? Who could that be, hey?'

Locks clicked and wood scraped and the door opened to reveal Harry. He had a baby perched on his hip, and was wearing a ratty grey t-shirt that was so thin in places the fabric was almost transparent, he had a bottle shoved in a pocket.

The expression which graced Harry's face was one of pleased surprise. Spice, vanilla, baby powder and warmth rushed out to meet Draco and he instantly felt soothed. There was still a lot more to do however and this was made clear as Harry's pleasure drifted into concern and he shifted to the side, silently granting Draco entry.

'Merlin, Draco, are you alright?' he asked as Draco shuffled past him into the hall and hung his rucksack from the coat rack. He was just here for a chat, he told himself.

'Man, you're drenched.' Harry reached out the hand that wasn't holding the wriggling baby securely to his hip and swiped dripping hair from Draco's face.

'And you're freezing,' he fussed, shifting an increasingly irritable Teddy to his other hip and Draco noticed the baby's hair was slowly turning red. So did Harry.

'Uh-oh,' he muttered. 'Look, I need to give him his bottle. You go upstairs, have a shower, there should be some clean jogging bottoms and a t-shirt on the end of my bed. I'll feed him and put him down and we can have a cup of tea, yeah?' Harry asked.

Draco nodded, realising he was yet to utter a word since his arrival.

'Thanks,' he whispered harshly. Harry simply smiled a concerned smile and gave Draco a little shove towards the stairs.

Draco stepped into the shower cubicle and relaxed slightly as the warm water began to rinse away the chill that had settled in his bones. He washed his hair quickly with a shampoo that smelt like mint and rushed out of the shower. Dressing rapidly, he pulled on the slightly too short navy blue jogging bottoms that Harry had invited him to borrow. This was balanced by a T-shirt that was slightly too large, Harry being slightly broader in the shoulder than he was.

Despite how eager he was to get back down stairs, he still spared himself a brief look in the mirror and cast a quick Drying Charm over his hair, deciding that if he was going to forgo his usually immaculate appearance, then he was at least going to make sure that his hair was acceptable.

Draco headed back downstairs as quietly as he could manage; if Teddy was already sleeping he didn't want to wake him. As he reached the stairs to the kitchen he heard a soft, melodic voice and sank silently down onto the top step, drawing his knees up in front of him. Harry was standing near the kitchen table, facing away from him, Teddy pressed firmly against his chest, sleepy brown eyes peering over one shoulder as Harry sang softly and twisted at the waist to rock him to sleep.

The words were sad and melancholy, though the tune sounded like a normal lullaby. Slowly, Harry turned and caught sight of Draco. He smiled and flushed slightly with embarrassment but did not stop singing. Draco smiled back and leaned his head against the wall, listening.

Eventually, Harry seemed happy that the baby was asleep and laid him in his basket, casting a charm over it so their voices wouldn't wake him.

'Is there anything you aren't good at?' Draco asked with a touch of exasperation in his voice and Harry blushed, dropping his eyes to the floor.

'Ah yes,' Draco said kindly, smiling at the other boy. 'You can't take a compliment.'

Harry chuckled softly and made his way towards where Draco was still sitting on the step. He held out his hand, as if to pull Draco to his feet but when he took it, Harry pulled him into a rough hug. Draco returned it, nuzzling into the warmth at Harry's neck that smelt like milk and talcum powder as well as spiciness that was just Harry. Harry's hand slid up and down Draco's back, trying to comfort him.

'What happened earlier, babe?' Harry asked and Draco stiffened slightly, wondering if he was aware of what he'd just said.

'When I opened the door it looked like you'd been tangling with a Dementor or something.'

'Mmmphf,' was all Draco could manage from the spot he had burrowed into. Exhaling heavily, he extracted himself reluctantly from Harry's warmth and stepped back.

'It's been a rough couple of days,' he admitted.

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him down into the nearest chair, moving off to make tea.

'Tell me what happened,' Harry insisted, placing the kettle on the stove and leaning back against the counter.

'I closed up the manor today,' Draco explained, folding his hands on the table in front of him. 'I've left, I can't go back there. I'm going to stay at a hotel whilst I figure out what I'm going to do but there was no way I could spend another night in that house.'

'Don't be daft,' Harry said, pouring the water over the tea bags and adding sugar and milk.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him indignantly. He couldn't believe Harry was being so glib about this; he had thought he understood about his problems with the house. He was just about to issue a cutting response and storm from the kitchen, when Harry turned round, concern etched into his face, and pushed a cup of tea towards Draco.

'There's no need for you to stay in a hotel, you can stay here,' he said simply and Draco thanked whatever force it was, that had helped him to keep his mouth shut, just for once.

'I can't do that Harry,' he protested, shaking his head slightly.

'Of course you can, it's not like it will be any trouble and it may have escaped your notice but I'm happy to have you here.' Harry smirked.

The way that Harry had approached the subject, as though it were the obvious solution, was probably the only thing he could have done to convince Draco to remain at Grimmauld. He did not want Harry to invite him to stay simply because his hero complex insisted upon it. There was no sense of obligation hidden in the words, however, just a genuine desire to have Draco remain with him.

'Okay,' Draco assented quietly and was rewarded with a dazzling smile.

***

The bed was different but the dreams were the same. A cacophony of screams filled his head. Crabbe, Pansy, Professor Burbage and countless others combined their voices to be underlined by the maniacal cackle of his Aunt Bella. Draco struggled upwards through the blanket of sleep but the screaming didn't cease; it just altered into something less sinister.

'Hush now, you're going to wake Draco.' Harry's voice drifted through the bedroom door that sat slightly ajar, along with the tired cries of Teddy Lupin. Draco heard Harry descend the stairs and, after a moment of indecision, chose to follow him. He listened carefully as he reached the first floor landing but heard nothing. He was about to head down to the kitchen, when he noticed the slight glow coming from under the drawing room door; gently, he pushed it open.

Harry sat on the couch, baby cuddled in his arms, as he fed him from a bottle. The only light came from the fireplace and Draco simply watched the silent scene for a moment before he realised that Harry's lips were moving. He stepped through the Silencing Charm and became aware that Harry was singing again, his low, mellifluous voice filling the room.

Harry smiled his embarrassment when he caught sight of Draco and were it not for that fear of breaking the peaceful spell that had been cast on this room, he would have assured Harry that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Instead, he opted to simply join them, lounging at the other end of the couch, allowing his feet to tangle with Harry's. He watched them happily, overwhelmed by the feeling of contentment. Slowly, his eyelids began to droop as Harry's gentle lullaby encouraged him back into sleep.


	8. Chapter 7 Significantly Mundane

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Harry Potter owns me :D

A/N: Despite he will never read this, this chapter is dedicated to Ben without whom it would not have been written. He is the king of the all night supermarket stunt and most of the antics in here are based on his actual experiences.

As always thanks to saras_girl for her fabulous job at editing reviews of all kinds delight me :D

Chapter 7

Significantly Mundane

_We do a whole lot of laughin'_

_At the shyness that surrounds us_

_I do a whole lot of looking, somewhere else_

_I don't need to look; no I can just feel you _

_Besides every time I see you _

_It just forces me to look at myself_

_Bliss like this –Ani DiFranco_

Thursday, July 2nd, 1998. Grimmauld Place, London.

'I'm making tea, would you like one?' Harry asked as he pushed himself wearily from his chair and stretched languidly. Draco didn't respond, so he reached out to grip one of his toes and waggled his foot back and forth to get his attention.

Eyes wide with surprise, Draco peered over the top of his book, before pulling the headphones from his ears.

Harry grinned indulgently.

"You know, if you wanted to put some music on you could have used the stereo," he suggested, pointing to the speakers in the corner.

Draco blushed at the suggestion and struggled slightly before propping himself up on his elbows.

'I didn't want to intrude,' Draco explained and Harry rolled his eyes.

This would be the third time they'd had this conversation and Harry was incredibly moved and completely exasperated by the way Draco continued to try to disrupt Harry as little as possible. Harry wanted Draco to treat Grimmauld as his home. Still, it hadn't been very long; he hoped that he would get over it eventually.

'Draco, if you want to put music on, do so, this is your house too,' he insisted, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time he said this.

Draco pouted.

'That's all well and good, but I have no idea how to work that contraption,' he fussed.

'Come on,' he said holding out a hand, pulling Draco to his feet when it was accepted. He headed over to the stereo.

'If you'd bothered to look at it, I'm sure you could have figured it out,' Harry teased. 'But I'll show you, after all it wouldn't do for you to be afraid of something Muggle, now would it?' he finished, smirking when Draco's eyes flared with the challenge.

Draco shuffled over to stand behind him and Harry immediately began to wonder why he kept doing this to himself. Draco stood peering over Harry's shoulder and though not actually touching, he could feel the heat emanating from Draco's body whilst warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and he longed to lean back against him. Instead, he leaned forward.

'Okay, power, open,' he said, pressing the buttons as he said them. 'Disc?' He held out his hand patiently as Draco removed the CD from his personal player and put it into Harry's outstretched hand. Harry placed the disc in the tray. 'Close, play,' Harry finished, turning to face Draco as the first few chords filled the room.

'It's as easy as…' Harry stopped mid-sentence as he realised just how close he and Draco were now standing. Draco's eyes were the colour of the sea before a storm, what little he could see of them anyway, as the irises were rapidly being overtaken by the liquid black of Draco's pupils. Harry's breath caught in his chest as he gazed into Draco's eyes, feeling every bit like he was drowning.

Harry stepped back, reeling slightly, and bumped the backs of his knees against the cabinet as he tried to regain his equilibrium. He had been going to do something before all this had started, now if he could just remember what it was...

'Tea,' he announced suddenly and Draco startled slightly. 'I was going to make tea, would you like one? Harry asked, gratefully extracting himself from the gap between Draco and the stereo.

'Definitely,' Draco asserted, sounding just as relieved at the distraction as Harry felt. 'I went to make one earlier but there weren't any of those bags in the jar.'

'Ah, then we may have a problem,' Harry admitted. He checked his watch.

'Eleven twenty,' Harry muttered to himself, 'should be quite enough by now,' he asserted and headed over to the cabinet where he kept his jar of Muggle money. 'I need to do some shopping before we get any tea, I'm afraid,' he explained to Draco as he pulled several folded notes from the jar and slid them into his wallet.

'Is there anything you'd specifically like me to get whilst I'm there?' he asked, taking in Draco's confused expression.

'It's the middle of the night,' Draco pointed out and whilst Harry was tempted to offer a sarcastic reply, he realised that it wasn't a completely ridiculous observation.

'There's a twenty-four hour supermarket about fifteen minutes from here,' Harry explained and Draco's eyed widened in interest.

'Can I…' Draco flushed slightly and dropped his gaze. 'Can I come with you?' he asked tentatively, peering up at Harry through the blond strands of his fringe.

'Yeah, sure,' Harry confirmed, bemused. Heading to the hallway, he pulled on a light jacket and his trainers. 'We have to walk there, though, I'm afraid,' he called back towards the drawing room as Draco appeared. 'There aren't any safe Apparition points nearby,' he explained. Draco shrugged and pulled on his own jacket before following Harry out of the door.

They began down the street in silence. The only sounds were those of the warm summer breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees in the park opposite, and the far-off hum of traffic from a city that never truly rested.

When they reached the end of the road, Draco cleared his throat and caught Harry's attention.

'If I tell you this, you have to promise not to laugh,' Draco said cautiously, glancing sideways at him

Harry nodded and immediately began to wonder if he was going to be able to keep that promise. Often when Ron had asked him to promise not to laugh, he would then come out with something so ridiculous, Harry was left with little choice but to do what he'd sworn not to. Thoughts of Ron sobered his rather content mood and he ceased to worry if he would be able to take Draco seriously.

'I'd never thought about where food came from until just now,' Draco admitted. 'It was always just there.'

Harry looked slightly incredulous but managed not to laugh at just how spoiled Draco really was.

'Not even when we were learning about Gamp's Law in Transfiguration?' he asked, slightly bemused by Draco's confession.

'Nope, never even occurred to me,' he confirmed and then spotting that Harry was trying to suppress a smile he folded his arms and huffed slightly.

'Had you been bought up the way you were supposed to be, you wouldn't have a clue either, so I don't know what you're smirking at,' Draco said defensively.

'I know my family did okay, but they were nothing like you,' Harry chuckled slightly. 'No manor house, no house-elves,' he pointed out and watched as Draco arched an eyebrow.

'Well, not any more, no,' he conceded.

'What are you talking about?' Harry asked frowning.

'What do you mean, what am I talking about? I'm talking about your family, about the Potters,' he said, his tone picking up a touch of its old contempt, clearly thinking that Harry was being deliberately obtuse. He threw Harry another sidelong glance, picking up the look of confusion on his face.

'Merlin, you really don't know, do you? Did you never ask about your heritage?' Draco asked, disbelieving.

'I had my mind on other things,' Harry responded dryly.

'Conceded,' Draco agreed and they continued on quietly for a moment.

'Well you obviously know all about it,' reasoned Harry suddenly, 'so tell me.'

Draco's eyebrows shot up and he looked carefully at Harry.

'I only know what my father told me whilst he was drunk and banging on about the desecration of the Pure-blood families,' Draco explained. 'Your family was one of his favourite examples but the story I've heard is about as far from unbiased as it's possible to be.'

'I'll bear that in mind.' Harry nodded and then bumped Draco's arm encouragingly. 'Come on, tell me.'

Draco nodded his assent and took a deep breath.

'Well, the Potters are as old and as wealthy and, prior to your mother, as Pure-blooded as the Malfoys. Just without the mania,' Draco explained. 'From what I've been told, the Potter manor used to sit on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow.'

'Used to? Harry asked. 'Do you know what happened to it?'

'I'm getting there,' Draco scolded. 'Merlin, Harry, you really don't do patience do you?' he asked, smirking, and Harry smirked back.

'As far as I know, and this could be complete tosh as my father is far from lucid when he's drunk…'

'Lucid Lucius,' Harry muttered under his breath, drawing a quirked eyebrow and a quizzical smile from Draco. Harry smiled apologetically for the interruption.

'Well, as far as I know,' Draco began again, with a small indulgent shake of his head, 'when your father and mother left school your grandparents were still alive, so they found themselves a small house in the village. When your grandparents did die it was expected that your father would move his family into the manor but apparently, your mother objected to this idea.'

Harry considered this and nodded slightly; he could understand why his mother might be opposed to be moving into a huge manor house. The idea of moving to somewhere like Malfoy manor was unsettling to him and even Grimmauld seemed a little excessive at times.

'Anyway, I shall spare you my father's inebriated diatribes as to reasons for this, the upshot was that your father sold the manor and auctioned off the antiques, choosing to live in the home that he had made with your mother.'

'Oh,' Harry said, considering this for a moment. 'So, when you said, 'if I'd been bought up the way I was supposed to be', you weren't referring to my Mum and Dad but to my heritage?' Harry asked, and Draco blushed, looking at his feet.

'I didn't mean…' and he trailed off when Harry nudged him again.

'It's okay, I know you didn't,' Harry reassured and it was a strange thing to realise, that he really did know that Draco hadn't meant his comment insultingly.

The supermarket loomed into sight at the end of the road, all bright lights and glass panels and as they crossed the sparsely occupied car park, Harry watched as Draco's eyes grew wide with wonder. He stood back and watched as Harry released a trolley and began to steer it through the doors. Absentmindedly, Harry leaned forward over the handle and propelled himself forwards, lifting his feet and gliding through the clothes aisle towards where the CDs were.

'Hey, don't leave me!' Draco exclaimed, speeding up to catch Harry.

'Sorry,' Harry apologised, turning and waiting for him. When he caught up, he eyed the trolley suspiciously and then Harry watched, amused, as with one graceful move, Draco situated himself inside it.

'Now you can't leave me behind,' he stated matter-of-factly 'Now, onwards!' He pointed forward and Harry hastened to comply, leaning into Draco and propelling them both down the aisle.

They'd managed to accumulate a handful of CDs and all the necessary fruit and veg, before the trolley became so full that it no longer served as a suitable chariot. Draco placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and fluidly climbed from his vehicle. Pet food was next, and Harry was about to skip right on past it until he noticed that a spare trolley had been abandoned there and this was one of the few aisles that didn't have a restock cage in it. A mischievous grin settled on his face.

'Race you?' Harry said, nodding towards the discarded trolley. Draco looked confused for a moment but as Harry manoeuvred the trolley towards the imaginary starting line, comprehension dawned on Draco's face and he retrieved the trolley, looking at it slightly nervously.

'What do I do?' he asked and Harry wondered if he was the first person ever to give a lesson in the art of trolley gliding.

'Just run a couple of steps and then push off with your feet and glide, but remember to lean right forward otherwise it'll overbalance on you,' Harry warned, smiling at the look of seriousness that settled on Draco's face whenever he was being shown something new.

'Okay,' Draco said carefully. 'On three, one… two…' He flashed Harry an evil grin and was gone.

It took Harry a second to comprehend that Draco had cheated, but he quickly gathered himself and set off in pursuit. Draco may have gotten the early start but he was a beginner at this and Harry caught him relatively quickly and reached the end of the aisle before him. Despite his defeat, Draco rewarded Harry with a burst of carefree laughter before abandoning his trolley and heading over towards the fish counter curiously.

'What do you like?' Harry asked, steering the trolley up behind Draco. 'I never thought to ask before. I've been cooking for over a month now and it never occurred to me to ask what you liked to eat. I've just been putting stuff in front of you. Hell, you might have been a vegetarian for all I knew,' Harry exclaimed, suddenly realising the extent of his rudeness.

'Fussiness was never really tolerated as I was growing up.' Draco shrugged. 'It's surprising, I know; you would have thought that I was allowed whatever I wanted and, on the whole, that was true. The thing is, table manners were always rather a big deal in my family and part of that was never turning your nose up at what was served. It is the height of bad manners to say you don't like something your host has offered and so it was never allowed.'

'Huh,' Harry said, considering this point. 'Still, you must have had favourites and things you weren't fond of,' he reasoned.

'Well, I never really liked broad beans,' Draco admitted, 'or sardines,' he said looking accusingly at the small fish.

Harry made a face in empathy, as he remembered the smell of the tinned sardines in tomato sauce that his uncle used to eat on toast for Sunday supper.

'No worries, no sardines ever,' Harry confirmed. 'Just the thought makes me feel queasy. But what do you like?'

'Tuna,' he said, nodding at the steaks sitting amongst the ice-cubes. 'Pork?' he said, closing one eye and thinking carefully, as Harry had the attendant wrap up some tuna steaks as well as several other items as he started planning meals in his head and wondering what Draco would think of Paella.

'It's the wrong time of year, but pheasant, and roast potatoes, and spinach and anything with apple or cherry,' Draco concluded, picking up enthusiasm as he went. 'And that lamb thing you made the first time,' Draco said, blushing slightly, 'when you went out of your way to prove you could cook.'

Harry grinned slightly. There was no question that he had gone slightly overboard the first time, trying to impress Draco, and he was rather pleased that it had worked. He simply headed off towards the next section, refusing to deny it.

Draco scanned the shelves with interest as Harry searched for the butter he liked.

'Muggles eat storks?' Draco exclaimed, surprised, 'and it comes in blocks?'

'What?' Harry asked.

'Here look, Stork,' Draco said, holding out the shiny gold block.

'It's the brand,' Harry explained. 'It's vegetable fat, not stork.'

'But why call a vegetable fat stork?' Draco asked, confused.

'Because…' Harry paused. 'You know, I have no idea, it's a stupid thing to call it.'

'This candle smells like your house,' Draco declared as Harry dumped a couple of boxes of vanilla votives into the trolley.

'No, my house smells like that candle,' Harry corrected.

'That's ingenious,' Draco enthused. 'Muggles came up with this?'

'Who knows?' Harry shrugged. 'They probably stole the idea off of us at some point. Some inventive Muggle-born figuring out how to corner the market, creating a Muggle version of a wizarding product,' he speculated as Draco inspected the numerous boxes of candles, which took up quite a large area in the store's first floor home-wares section.

'What other scents do they have?' Draco asked grabbing a box of what looked like lavender candles and inhaling deeply. 'Urgh, smells like my Grandma Druella.' Draco scowled, dropping that box and snatching up another. 'This one smells like you,' he said thoughtfully, and threw the dark red candles into the trolley.

It took a good ten minutes before Draco was fully satisfied that he had smelt all the different candles and several more unusual fragrances had joined Harry's normal vanilla before he allowed himself to be dragged away.

When he went to get washing powder, Harry lost sight of Draco for a moment. The next thing he knew, Draco was bounding up behind him, brandishing a packet of brightly coloured plastic cutlery.

'Look at these, Harry,' he said, excitable. 'We _need_ these,' he insisted.

'Sure, why not?' Harry agreed, delighted when Draco beamed at him and dropped the packet into the trolley.

'Oh, forgot toilet roll,' Harry exclaimed and abandoned the trolley, heading back towards the previous aisle in search of the elusive product, Draco trailing behind him. Retrieving the loo roll, he turned back and realised that Draco was standing about halfway between himself and the trolley. An idea came to him and he hugged the packet to his body, dropping his stance slightly.

'It's Potter with the Quaffle and only Malfoy stands between him and the hoop,' he commentated.

Draco picked up on his plan immediately and dropped his own stance spreading his arms wide. Harry ran forward and Draco came to meet him, making a grab for the toilet roll. Harry dropped a shoulder and rolled around Draco, twisting away from his grasp and darting forwards

'And Potter's past Malfoy, can nothing stop him now?' he teased and something soft collided with the back of his head, causing him to stumble in surprise and sending him sprawling.

'Ooooh, Bludger to the head. Nasty!' Draco's voice came from close behind him. 'That's what overconfidence will do for you,' he added as he skipped over Harry's prone form and scooped up the fallen prize in one swift movement.

Harry scrambled to his feet as Draco reached the end of the aisle and deposited the 'Quaffle' in to the trolley with a flourish, looking back at Harry with a smug smile.

'Ah, now I know what I'm doing,' Draco said with certainty as they returned to the ground floor and entered the wine aisle.

'Go for it,' Harry nodded, 'only three, though, I have a finite amount of cash on me,' he added quickly, suddenly realising the danger of letting Draco run riot.

'I suppose I could get one of the elves to bring us a selection from the cellar at the manor,' Draco mused as he perused the many bottles on the shelf.

'Yeah, you can have a look at the cellar at Grimmauld as well if you like, I didn't want to throw any of it away, but at the same time I was a little wary of drinking anything that had once belonged to Walburga Black,' Harry suggested.

'Wise, very wise,' Draco agreed. 'I imagine a lot will have spoiled,' he said, a touch of sadness in his voice, 'not all wines are up to being laid down for a long time, but some of them will be. I'll happily sort through them and get rid of the vinegar,' he agreed, 'but this should do us for now.' He placed two bottles of red and a bottle of white in the trolley.

Sweets came next and once again the excitement around Draco became palpable as he looked around at all the different confections.

'What are those fruits doing to each other?' he asked suddenly whilst Harry was selecting some chocolate for a dessert he was planning to try making.

He wandered over to Draco's side, having learned that getting Draco's take on all things Muggle was a small price to pay for allowing this shop to stretch into its second hour. The bag of chewy fruit strips were brightly wrapped and had cartoon fruits printed on them. Harry leaned in over Draco's shoulder to take a closer look.

The image on the lemon chews depicted a lemon and a green man; the lemon sitting between the green man's legs had a blissful expression on its face whist the green man gripped hold of it, leering. The entire scene was very lewd.

'Fuck me,' Harry muttered.

'No, he's fucking a lemon,' Draco asserted, 'and don't even ask me what is going on with the cherries.' He chuckled and grabbed a couple of bags from the shelf, 'We have to have these,' he announced and Harry nodded, slightly dumbstruck.

'Can you grab a couple of baguettes?' Harry asked Draco as he grabbed a packet of crumpets off the shelf.

Draco walked over to the baskets that held the baguettes and selected two. He weighed one in his hand and then looked up at Harry though his hair, mischief causing his grey eyes to flash. Harry's stomach flipped over and he knew he was in trouble. Draco could get him to do anything he wanted with that look.

The blond threw one of the sticks of bread at Harry and he caught it skilfully, watching as Draco turned sideways, slightly shifting his weight to his back foot and sliding his front foot forwards. He extended the baguette towards Harry and folded his free arm behind his back. He swept the baguette up in front of his face in a simple salute and then back down again before circling his wrist to come at the side of Harry's head.

Wielding his baguette more like a broad sword than a rapier, Harry just managed to parry and twist under Draco's blow. They battled back and forth for a few minutes, Harry's movements becoming increasingly frantic whilst Draco remained wonderfully composed. When Harry spotted an opening he swung his bread at Draco's waist. Unfortunately for him this was just what Draco was hoping he would do and, parrying downwards, the other boy span into Harry's personal space brining the baguette to Harry's throat. They stood nose to nose, chests heaving with the exertion, each unable to tear their eyes away from the other.

Draco leaned almost imperceptibility closer, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips.

'I win,' he whispered.

A clunking sound behind them caused them to spring apart again and they looked around to see an employee had arrived in their aisle to stock the shelves. Sighing, Harry dropped his slightly battered baguette into the trolley.

It was probably for the best. Draco was relying on him for somewhere to live right now; if he'd kissed him, everything would have changed, everything would become unsure and unstable, and right now they both really needed a little stability. He'd wanted to kiss him, though, oh yes.

'We forgot pumpkin juice,' Draco exclaimed as they made their way towards the tills.

Harry glanced around for employees, suddenly aware after their interruption that they weren't as alone in this supermarket as they felt. Thankfully, the coast was clear.

'We'll have to get some from Diagon Alley,' Harry said in a low voice. 'Muggles don't drink pumpkin juice.' When he caught sight of Draco's pout, he hunted around for something to appease him.

'We can go and see what other juices they have, though; there are usually loads of interesting flavours,' he suggested

Draco's smile returned slightly and Harry turned them toward the drinks.

'Apple juice, orange juice, tomato juice,' Draco muttered, scanning the shelves. 'Carrot juice, really? Prune juice? Ewww,' he exclaimed.

Harry nodded in agreement, picking up a multi-pack of apple and another of orange.

'Mango juice,' Draco muttered continuing his inventory. 'Guava juice, I don't even know what that is. Ooooh…' He reached out to snatch a couple of cartons from the shelves. 'Cherry Juice,' he stated, his eyes gleaming excitably, and dropping the two cartons into the trolley before grabbing two more.

'What if you don't like it?' Harry asked, not really all that worried.

'It's cherry, Harry, there's nothing to dislike,' Draco dismissed simply.

Harry smirked in response and grabbed a bottle of Cherry Coke as they headed for the tills.

The woman behind the checkout looked tired and irritable as they loaded their purchases on to the conveyor belt and Draco watched with amazement as she ran the items across the barcode reader. When she got to the alcohol, she looked up at Harry, a suspicious look in her eye.

'_Confundo,'_ Harry thought with a tiny wave of his hand. A wandless, non-verbal Confundus Charm was never going to be very strong but the cashier was already inclined not to bother and all he needed was for her to forget that she hadn't asked him for identification.

Back in the kitchen at Grimmauld, Harry bustled around putting away the shopping whilst Draco made tea.

'You know, it's most amusing how much you enjoyed that, all things considered.' Harry grinned at Draco as he passed him the milk.

'Well I'll let you in on a secret,' Draco said conspiratorially, 'I've always loved all that stuff. It's all so practical,' he enthused, 'and so different.'

'I think you like it because you weren't allowed to,' Harry suggested.

Draco gave a lazy one-shouldered shrug and handed Harry his tea.

'I think you may be right,' he conceded.

'Still, I find it quite surprising just how quickly you've accepted all this Muggle stuff,' Harry observed as they took up their acknowledged seating arrangement at the kitchen table.

'Yes, well, I don't know... I think maybe after the last couple of years the Muggle world seems quite safe. After all, we have wands and magic on our sides,' Draco mused as he sipped at his tea.

'Peace through superior fire power,' Harry teased and Draco smiled at him.

'Something like that,' Draco agreed.


	9. Chapter 8 Breaking Point

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I would love to borrow Draco for a bit but I think Natasha would protest.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter is really very, very angsty, but I know some of you will be happy with it. I would also like to say that this chapter has been written for the entire time I have posting this story so I have not folded to public pressure! ;)

Chapter 8

Breaking Point

_She is so pretty but if only she knew_

_I only do it when I'm thinking of you_

_I hit the ceiling when the lights are low_

_You are my fantasy I won't let go_

_Look at me look what you've done to me_

_I'm shaking uncontrollably, stuck in this fantasy_

_I'm thinking things I shouldn't be, burn myself out with you_

_I wouldn't but I have to. Only for you_

_Only for You – Halo_

'So, what do you want to do for your birthday?' Draco asked, stretching out on the sofa and dumping his feet into Harry's lap. He smiled to himself when his impertinence was rewarded by Harry taking his left foot and firmly running his thumbs across the sole. If he'd been a cat, Draco would have been purring.

'I don't know. What do normal eighteen-year-olds do on their birthdays?' Harry asked curiously.

'You think that I am a good judge of normal eighteen-year-olds, Harry? Really?' he asked sceptically.

'Perhaps not,' Harry conceded and then with a cheeky smile, 'there's nothing normal about you.'

'Hey!' he exclaimed and, feigning offence, pushed Harry lightly with his foot before dropping it back to the boy's lap to allow the stroking to resume, which it did.

'Alright, sorry,' Harry apologised with a chuckle. 'Seriously, though, I have no idea what I want to do and it would just be nice to have a birthday like everyone else for once. I was usually at my aunt and uncle's for my birthday so it would just get skipped on the whole. I mean, my friends sent me gifts and everything, but I very rarely got to do anything on the day.'

'Hmmm,' Draco said thoughtfully. 'Well, I always used to go shopping on my birthday, if I didn't have exams. My mother would call me home from school for the day and we would have lunch and then we would shop all afternoon.' He smiled as he remembered the mother and son shopping trips which had always been undertaken with an intensity that underlined just how seriously they both took the pastime.

Draco wasn't sure if originally he had requested these excursions because he loved shopping or because it was a pastime that his father didn't care for. Either way, it had resulted in the same thing, he and his mother spending the afternoon together doing something they both loved.

'That sounds like fun,' Harry admitted. 'And it would be nice to get your opinion on stuff,' he added shyly and Draco felt a grin spread across his face.

Quickly, he grasped around for something that would move them away from the sentimental moment. These were getting more and more frequent recently and Draco was finding it more and more difficult to avoid shoving Harry up against the nearest wall and kissing him each time it happened. It had occurred to him several times that Harry appeared to be encouraging him to do that just that, but at the same time, he didn't want to mistake tactile familiarity for anything more and end up destroying what he had.

'As for what normal eighteen-year-olds do, well, I was rather under the impression that they got rolling drunk and went to nightclubs, so we could do that as well if you like,' Draco suggested nonchalantly, trying to squash down the image of a drunk, relaxed Harry dressed in something sinfully tight and grinding up against him in time to a pulsing beat.

'I've never been to a nightclub,' Harry commented with a touch of interest in his voice. 'Have you?' he asked.

'Once,' Draco admitted. 'It was at the end of our fourth year. I went to stay with Blaise for a little bit that summer, he was always a little wild and at that stage of his rebellion had developed a habit of sneaking Aging Potion in order to gain entrance to Muggle nightclubs. He managed to convince me to go along with him whilst I was there.'

'Was it fun?' Harry asked curiously

'It was,' he admitted.

'Okay, let's do that as well, then,' Harry asserted. 'Do you have any idea where we can go?'

'I have an couple of ideas,' Draco said, thinking back to the flyers that had sat in the changing rooms of one of the smaller independent clothing stores he liked. 'Leave it all to me, I will arrange everything,' he reassured.

* * *

The morning of Harry's birthday was bright and warm and Draco relished the smell of dew-damp air and caress of the newly risen sun as he made coffee for himself and Harry. On any other day he wouldn't drag himself from the warmth of his bed for at least three more hours but he knew how Harry liked to rise at daybreak to go for a run and Draco was determined that he would be awake to bring Harry coffee this morning.

Usually, Harry would put the coffee on when he got back from his run, leaving it to drip through the machine whilst he took a shower. Then he would wake Draco, breezing into his room, smelling of toothpaste and cinnamon and freshness, and bringing with him the seductive scent of fresh coffee.

The first time he had done it, Draco had been certain he had still been dreaming and it was only when Harry had deposited himself cross-legged at the end of his bed to sip at his own coffee that Draco realised it was actually happening. Then, every morning after, Draco would be woken the same way.

Harry sitting on the end of his bed whilst they drank their coffee, talking about what they had planned and other less important things until Harry would disappear off to make breakfast whilst Draco would have his own shower. He was now beginning to get the distinct impression that Harry seemed to enjoy taking care of him and the gentle fussing was so unfamiliar to Draco that he accepted it greedily.

This morning he was determined to return the favour, though he had seriously reconsidered it when he realised just how early it required him to get up. As he waited for the coffee to finish, he looked carefully at the neatly wrapped box that sat innocuously on the side of the tray and debated for about the hundredth time since he'd purchased it whether to give it to Harry or not.

The shell chip necklace had seemed like a good idea when Draco had first spotted it, but now he couldn't help but wonder if Harry would read more into it than was intended? '_No,'_ Draco realised, that wasn't physically possible. The worry was that Harry would see it for exactly what it was.

The coffee puttered to a stop and Draco pushed the indecision from his head as he toyed with the leather band that was never removed from his wrist. This would mean no more and no less than Harry gifting him the wrist band. Whatever it was that had meant.

Draco levitated the tray with the coffee behind him, as he tapped lightly on the master bedroom door and pushed it open. He paused just inside the door as his eyes adjusted to the light drenched room. The walls of Harry's bedroom were painted a silver colour that caused the whole room to glow slightly when hit by the rays of the rising sun. Draco had seen Harry's room before, of course, and had thought that the grey walls and navy blue bedding looked rather stylish, but this was the first time he'd seen it as it was clearly intended to be seen.

Harry was awake, only just, but the green eyes peered at him from above the duvet, squinting slightly. He reached out and patted the bedside table for his glasses.

'Draco? Is everything okay?' he asked, concern flooding his voice as he shuffled upright.

'Of course,' Draco reassured, disappointed when the neck of Harry's t-shirt came into view. 'I just thought since it was your birthday and everything,' he explained, lowering the tray with the coffee towards the bedside table and situating himself cross-legged atop the silver satin bed-spread folded at the end of Harry's bed.

Harry's grin was dazzling as he reached out to wrap his hands around his favourite mug, inhaling the steam deeply, with eyes-closed appreciation.

'Happy birthday, Harry,' Draco announced, pushing the box forward across the duvet and taking in Harry's look of surprise.

Taking a swig of his coffee, Harry placed the mug back on the bedside table and picked up the gift, turning it over in his hands a couple of times before carefully peeling back the paper. Draco's anxiety rose with every second that Harry took to remove the paper and pull the box lid free. He wanted to yell at him to get on with it but managed to restrain himself. Eventually Harry had the box open in front of him and for a long moment he just gazed at its contents.

'I know it's only small but I figured I'm taking you to lunch later and shopping and clubbing,' he pointed out, wishing that he had little more control over the speed that he was speaking. 'I picked it up in one of those shops you like, the ones that aim to make everyone look like they've wandered in from the beach, because I know you like that stuff,' he gushed and watched as Harry removed the necklace from the box and quickly secured it around his neck, beaming at Draco.

'I have to like that stuff,' Harry joked. 'Nothing else goes with this hairstyle.' And then, reaching forward to take hold of Draco's wrist, 'Thank you, it's awesome,' he assured, falling back into the pillows and reclaiming his coffee.

From there, the morning continued relatively normally until Harry returned from his run and they sat down to breakfast. Draco was going over his plan of attack for the afternoon so that they could visit all the shops that would appeal to them both when a tapping came at the kitchen window.

Two owls flew in and settled on the end of the kitchen table. One was Archimedes, to whom Draco immediately offered the corner of his toast; the other was unknown; both carried packages. Harry relieved Archimedes first, a look of trepidation on his face as he unfurled the note. Draco watched as a sad little smile settled on Harry's face.

'It's from the Weasleys,' Harry explained and Draco stiffened slightly. Harry pulled the box free and opened it to reveal a well protected birthday cake and a couple of bottles of spiced mead.

'Molly apologised for not getting in touch but she thought we could all use a little time to cool off. She says that as soon as I'm ready to talk about it, she's sure we can put things right again,' Harry explained as he offered Archie a couple of treats and removed the cake and mead from the box.

'What do you suppose that means?' Draco asked dubiously, knowing exactly what he thought it meant.

'I think it means that when I'm ready to come back and accept Ginny, all is forgiven,' Harry said cynically. 'I don't expect it to remain like this. There will be a period when she finally accepts it and is angry at me for a bit and she'll actually come round.' He shrugged, moving to unburden the unfamiliar owl. 'I'm not that worried any more.' He grinned.

'Why not?' Draco asked, not really needing an answer; if Harry was happy to let his adoptive family come around of their own accord then that was good enough for him.

'I have you,' he said, not meeting Draco's eyes as he released the scroll from the strange owl's leg.

Draco's breath caught in his chest and his stomach performed a weird little somersault as he realised that Harry did indeed have him, in any way he wanted him and for as long as he needed.

'It's from Hermione.' Harry grinned broadly and then his smile faltered slightly. 'Just Hermione,' he huffed. 'Apparently, Ron is still referring to me as 'that backstabbing bastard'. Merlin, anyone would have thought it was him that I'd broken up with.' Harry dropped the letter on top of the one from the Weasleys and turned his attention to Hermione's gift.

'To be perfectly honest, I always did wonder about him,' Draco commented truthfully. 'He was always fiercely possessive over you.'

'Ron?' Harry questioned halfway through peeling the paper away from Hermione's gift. 'Eww, that's just really creepy.' Draco's heart picked up a little at the realisation that Harry's disgust was at the idea of being with Ron and not with another man. Interesting.

'Okay, Hermione, I get the hint,' he said, smiling at the opened package; inside was a handsome leather binder filled with high quality parchment, an eagle feather quill, a small bottle of colour changing ink, a little pouch of ribbons and stick of sealing wax with a seal. Harry looked closely at the seal and grinned. 'It's a phoenix,' he explained to Draco.

'Well, I'll give Granger this, she certainly has taste,' Draco said, considering the kit in front of Harry. 'I am sorry about Ron, though,' and Draco realised that he meant it.

'I'm not, he's done this so many times now; he always gets his act together eventually. Last time he did it, he ended up saving my life to make it up to me,' he quipped.

The subject of Ron and the Weasleys was dropped as both boys returned to their abandoned breakfast.

'I promised Andromeda I'd stop by and see her this morning,' Harry began and Draco detected a touch of nervousness in his voice.

'Okay, well, nothing I have planned happens till at least midday,' Draco offered, assuming this was the cause of Harry's concern.

'That's cool; I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to come with me?'

Draco was dumbstruck for a moment, and then a creeping fear began to tug at his gut. Andromeda was his aunt, an aunt he'd never seen; the only thing she knew about him was that he was the son of a sister who disowned her because of her husband's prejudice.

'She wants to meet you, you know?' Harry was saying and Draco realised that he must be looking absolutely thunderstruck.

'She does?' he managed to croak out.

'Of course she does.' Harry nodded enthusiastically. 'She hardly has any family left and, y'know, I might have talked about you a bit,' Harry finished, blushing into his nearly empty coffee cup.

'You did?' Draco asked, surprised, and Harry looked up at him sheepishly.

'I did, you live here, I spend most of my time with you, and not talking about you would have just been really awkward,' Harry explained and Draco decided that he could see the logic in that.

'So, will you? Come with me? I promised her I'd ask you,' Harry asked, casting a hopeful smile in his direction and Draco found that he was simply unable to refuse.

'Certainly,' he agreed. 'I suppose I ought to wear something more suitable if I am going to meet my aunt this morning,' he said, indicating his ensemble of one of his more comfortable pairs of jeans and a black Calvin Klein T-shirt.

'Why?' Harry said, looking down at his own khakis and light blue shirt, which Draco had to admit made him look wonderful. As much as he'd teased Harry for his beach style earlier, there was no question that it really did suit him.

'Etiquette,' Draco explained simply. 'My mother would have expected it,' he added sadly, knowing that he was right. His mother may have been more carefree than his father but the idea that he would go to greet a relative for the first time in comfortable jeans and t-shirt would have horrified her, no matter how much the outfit had cost.

They Apparated from the roof terrace to the bottom of Andromeda's garden, Draco greatly appreciating the casual arm that Harry threw around his shoulders to guide his Apparition. He was even more grateful when Harry didn't remove it but left it there as they started towards the house, giving Draco's bicep a reassuring squeeze.

The garden was large and sat higher on the hill than the unusually shaped house. An old stone wall lined with fruit trees ran down one side of the garden, separating it from a small lane. A brook ran down the other side with only fields beyond it. Five wide steps led down from the garden towards the house.

'Where are we?' Draco asked as Harry released him to negotiate the stone steps.

'Gloucestershire,' he said. 'The Forest of Dean is about five miles that way.' He pointed back over his shoulder towards the west. At the bottom of the stairs he opened the kitchen door and stuck his head calling out, 'Hello?' into the house before opening the door fully and stepping onto the quarry tiled floor inside.

'Happy birthday, Harry,' came the voice from within the kitchen, and Draco recognised the voice of someone who had once had a rather regal accent but had let it go. Andromeda Tonks came into view and swept Harry into a motherly hug. Draco was relieved that she was not yet aware of his presence as it gave him the opportunity to consider the woman before him.

At first glance she resembled Bellatrix rather than Narcissa, but that was only really in the hair colour and the nose. The bone structure was closer to that of his mother—softer, more refined than Bellatrix, but she also possessed an easy smile and an air of comfort that neither of her sisters possessed.

'I bought a friend with me, Dromeda,' Harry said, stepping to the side to reveal Draco standing behind him.

Harry stretched out a hand in introduction, clearly remembering their earlier discussion about etiquette.

'This is Draco Malfoy, Draco, your Aunt Andromeda.' Draco couldn't help but offer Harry a little smile.

Andromeda offered her hand to Draco and he took it, bowing to place a kiss on the knuckles.

'It's lovely to meet you, Aunt,' he smiled genuinely

'You too, Draco,' she said, inclining her head in recognition of the formality then, dropping the ritual completely, she beamed. 'My goodness, don't you look like your mother?'

Draco grinned, the tension that had begun to build with the start of that sentence, immediately released when his aunt avoided any comparisons to Lucius.

'Thank you, Aunt,' Draco said, positively beaming.

'That's enough of that now, Harry calls me Dromeda and so should you,' she admonished, patting him warmly on the shoulder and turning her attention back to Harry.

'Now, coffee and presents, I think,' she said, clapping her hands together and starting to bustle around the kitchen. Harry slid into one of the chairs at the table and nodded at Draco to join him.

Draco was grateful when Harry took control of the conversation for a while, asking about Teddy and whether he had recovered from the touch of a cold he'd had the week before. They traded stories about high temperatures and sleepless nights with the fussy infant whilst Andromeda prepared coffee and deposited home made shortbread onto a plate.

After she had provided them both with a mug of rather wonderful smelling coffee, she disappeared for a moment and reappeared with two boxes, one rather large and the other rather small.

Harry pushed his coffee to the side and slid the lid off of the larger box. Inside was a green, leather-bound book. Harry lifted it out and flipped open the cover, letting out a gasp of joy at the pictures of Teddy filling the first three pages; after that they were empty.

'Think of it as a present in progress,' Andromeda said and Harry grinned.

'It's wonderful,' he declared and spent a couple more minutes looking at the pictures, before Andromeda's delicate cough drew Harry's attention to his as yet unopened gift. Draco fought to suppress a smile. It was another of Harry's more endearing traits that he was always so amazed when someone gave him something; he could spend hours admiring it.

Flushing slightly, Harry turned his attention to the smaller box and opened it with the same care he opened all of his gifts. When he pulled the lid off, however, Harry's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes grew suspiciously misty. A hand shot out and searched for Draco's own, which he willingly offered.

'What is it?' he asked.

'This belonged to Sirius, didn't it?' Harry asked, lifting a silver pocket knife from the box with the hand that wasn't currently wrapped around Draco's. As he turned it into the light slightly, Draco saw the initials _S.B. _inscribed on the casing.

'It was,' Andromeda confirmed, and Draco's thumb began to track a comforting path back and forth on Harry's hand.

'He left it here accidentally, two weeks before he was sent to Azkaban,' she explained sadly. 'I never got the opportunity to return it to him.'

'He gave me one just like this,' Harry explained. 'But it got destroyed in the Department of Mysteries.' Releasing Draco's hand, he pulled Andromeda into an awkward hug. 'Thank you,' he insisted and Andromeda rubbed his back vigorously.

'You're welcome, Harry, you're welcome.'

Finally Harry released her and sat back down.

'Now, I'm sure you two don't want to be here all day. You must have many more interesting things to do on your birthday, so why don't you go and see your Godson and you can get on with whatever fun activities you have planned,' she said, shooing Harry from the room.

Draco caught Harry's questioning look and nodded his assent.

'Yes, yes, Draco will be fine, I don't bite,' the woman reassured.

Obviously Andromeda had caught sight of the look, too.

When she sat back down at the table, she took a moment to gather herself before she broached the subject Draco knew had been coming.

'I heard about your mother,' she said simply. 'Harry mentioned it, though he's certain he's committed some horrifically disloyal act by doing so.'

'He's such a Gryffindor at times,' Draco admitted, smiling slyly.

'That he is,' Andromeda admitted. Then turning serious again, 'I mention your mother because I wanted your permission to go and visit her.'

'Of course you have my permission, should you need it, but I feel it necessary to warn you that she may not recognise you. She no longer recognises me,' he explained sadly.

'Yes, I am familiar with her condition,' she said and then paused for a moment as if weighing her words. 'It is common, in cases like these, for the memory to be erased backwards, starting with the things that happened most recently. It stands to reason that, since Narcissa has known me all her life, her memory of me would be among the last to go. I know that these sorts of things don't always follow reason but I thought it would be worth a try,' she suggested.

Draco smiled once more. He appreciated both the tact and concern that his aunt was showing. She was clearly worried that were Narcissa to recognise her and not him, he might become jealous or hurt. In the past he might have, but right now if Andromeda's presence could bring his mother any measure of comfort, then he would have her do whatever she wished.

'Yes, of course, anything that might comfort her is worth a try,' he agreed as Harry reappeared holding a sleepy, grizzling baby.

'Somebody wants a feed,' he said, throwing Draco a look that clearly asked if everything was okay.

Draco nodded his reassurance.

'Here, give him to me and you boys get off, he'll probably be grouchy for a while now,' she said, holding out her hands to Harry.

Harry placed a swift kiss on top of the baby's fluffy green hair and passed him over as Draco picked up his gifts for him. They headed back to Grimmauld so that Draco could change out of his robes into something better suited to an afternoon shopping in Muggle London.

It was Friday lunchtime in the middle of the school holidays, and so the Italian bistro was completely packed. This did, however, work to Harry and Draco's advantage. Willing as they were to take a small table at the back of the restaurant, hidden from most of the other diners by a large pot plant.

As they ate their lunch and talked about nothing in particular, Draco became increasingly aware that he was watching Harry. Not just looking at him, as is polite when engaged in conversation, but actually watching him. As if he were trying to commit everything 'Harry' to memory.

Like the way he seemed to be trying so hard to remember his table manners but would forget himself occasionally and wave his fork about demonstratively. Or the way he would cock his head to one side when he was considering something, like what he wanted for desert.

The way he would roll his new necklace between thumb and forefinger as if reminding himself it was there. The thing Draco liked the most, however, was the way Harry's eyes would drift occasionally to his mouth whilst he was talking and this would cause a little spark of hope in Draco's chest.

The shops were as packed as the bistro had been but Draco refused to allow it to dampen his enthusiasm. It didn't take them long to find a pair of jeans they both liked. They were loose around the thigh which pleased Harry but they also clung to Harry's arse just enough to make Draco happy, too.

Harry had tried to buy the pair of Van's he spotted, himself. This had resulted in Draco snatching them from him and leading him on a bit of a chase through the store before Draco reached the counter and paid for them, Harry shaking his head with a frustrated grin on his face

The search for a new shirt, however, took a little longer. Harry didn't just want another version of something he already had. Finally, one shop yielded a white shirt shot through with an indigo thread that Harry liked and they headed off to the changing rooms. Unfortunately this was one of the busiest shops yet and none of the cubicles were free, leaving only the communal area in the middle.

Draco was about to suggest that they wait, not certain that he would be able to cope with seeing Harry half naked at the moment, before he realised that moment had passed. Harry had already dropped his purchases onto the bench and was working open the buttons on his shirt.

As the garment dropped down over his shoulders, Draco heard his own sharp intake of breath. His world narrowed down to Harry and the smooth, tanned skin of his exposed back. Reaching out shaky fingers, Draco traced the twisting and swirling black lines that merged to form a phoenix, wings outstretched across Harry's shoulder blades, its flaming tail trailing to the small of Harry's back.

'When did you get this done?' Draco asked, hearing the awe in his voice but unable to do anything about it.

Harry looked back at Draco over his shoulder and leaned back into his touch slightly.

'June second,' he said significantly. 'Do you like it?'

'It's beautiful,' Draco admitted, finding no other words. Suddenly he realised that he was standing in a changing room stroking Harry's back. He dropped his hand and the moment, like so many before it, was gone.

* * *

The club was hot and the music thrummed around them as Draco stood close to Harry at the bar, just allowing their arms to brush against each other. Remembering something from the one time he had ventured out with Blaise, Draco waited for the barmaid to return with their beers before leaning across the bar and shouting above the music.

'It's his birthday!'

The barmaid nodded in understanding before flashing Draco a grin and turning around to fix something that was green and blue and vile looking.

Harry shot him an inquisitive glance when he spotted the mischievous grin.

'Birthday shot,' Draco explained as he paid the girl for the beers.

Harry eyed the little glass curiously, head on one side before shrugging, bringing the glass to his lips and throwing back his head, slamming the glass back down with a grimace and a shudder.

'That was disgusting,' he declared, swigging on his beer to wash away the taste.

'Birthday shots usually are,' Draco explained. 'Their sole purpose is to get you plastered for free,' he added, enjoying the way he was forced to lean close to Harry in order to make himself heard.

They stood leaning back against the bar, watching the people writhing on the dance floor for a while. Draco concentrated on chilling out and allowing the combination of the beer and a good beat to work together to get him in the mood.

Finally, after a second beer, which apparently had been cut with tequila, Draco began to feel the buzz. Raising a questioning eyebrow at Harry, he decided to join the throng of people on the dance floor.

The music flowed through him and he surrendered himself to it, relaxing into the beat. He glanced around him and was pleased to see Harry was dancing just a few feet away, the effects of the birthday shot rendering him even more insouciant than Draco.

As one song faded into the next, both boys found themselves acquiring partners. Harry's was a rather pretty brunette who really knew how to move. Draco's was a somewhat forward girl with black pigtails who pressed her back against Draco's front and immediately began grinding against him.

Draco considered for a long moment about extracting himself, but another glace at Harry suggested that he was simply accepting his impromptu partner and had his hands resting lightly on her hips as her arms snaked around his neck. Draco closed his eyes and simply accepted the efforts of the girl in front of him, trying for all he was worth to imagine it was Harry.

When he opened his eyes again several songs later, they flew immediately to Harry and his movement faltered and stopped. The brunette was gone and pressing himself indecently against Harry's back was a tall man with long, sandy brown hair. He watched dumbstruck as the interloper slid a possessive arm around Harry's waist and lifted a beer bottle to his lips, tilting it for Harry to take a long drink.

Slowly, Draco's shock subsided into furious jealousy and, realising that his own dance partner had given up when he'd become immobile, he decided to take his jealousy to the men's room before he created a scene in the middle of the club.

Gaining the relative peace of the bathroom, Draco leant heavily against the wall, allowing his head to rest against cool tile and began to address his jealousy. He knew what was wrong, though. Harry was dancing with another man and with a lot more enthusiasm than he had shown the brunette.

Draco had backed off because he had been concerned that making a pass at Harry would horrify him. Clearly this fear had been ungrounded, however, as he had seemed more than comfortable with Mr 'I have a stupid little beard, aren't I cool?' out there. Now Draco had missed his chance.

As soon as he thought it, he recognised the foolishness of such a statement. This was a club. Harry was dancing with an anonymous stranger, sure, but he would be heading home with Draco later. And now that he knew that Harry wouldn't be horrified at the idea, there was nothing to stop him from usurping Mr Mouldy Chin.

Just one thing, actually, he was still standing in the men's room whilst the intruder continued to grind against Harry. Anger fading and the jealousy now accompanied by a healthy dose of determination, Draco stalked purposefully from the restroom and back towards Harry.

Harry, however, was no-longer there. Draco searched the crowd for a sight of him and eventually caught a glimpse of the tousled black hair heading towards the exit. He was being half lead, half carried by Mouldy Chin and seemed infinitely more inebriated than he had twenty minutes ago.

Cold fear twisted in Draco's gut and he began to duck through the crowd as quickly as possible, following Harry. Stepping out into the street, he looked around but couldn't see Harry any where. He was about to ask the bouncer when he hear a clatter from the alleyway next to the club.

Carefully removing his wand from its holster on his leg, Draco crept towards the alley. The sight that met him bought all the fury rushing back in a moment. Mouldy had Harry pressed up against the wall, his hands fumbling for the button of Harry's jeans while Harry pushed ineffectually at his shoulders. Draco didn't hesitate.

'Petrificus Totalus!' he called and watched with pleasure as the man's legs snapped together and his arms came to his sides, causing him to overbalance and fall hard onto the concrete. Without support, Harry immediately began to slide down the wall and Draco ran to him, pulling an arm around his shoulders and raising Harry back to his feet.

'Draco? I don't feel right,' Harry groaned, leaning heavily on Draco.

'It's alright, Harry we're going to get you home in a moment, I just need to take care of this mother fucker right here,' he said aiming a kick at the bastard's gut.

Draco thought seriously about putting him under Cruciatus for a moment or two but casting the curse was draining and Harry needed all his energy right now. In the end he settled for a simple Memory Charm and the resolve that if he ever ran into the asshole again, he would be lucky to leave the confrontation alive.

Checking the coast was clear, he Apparated them back to Grimmauld's roof terrace. On landing, Harry lurched forwards, falling to his hands and knees, and promptly vomited. Deciding the tiled roof of the terrace would be easier to clean up than anywhere indoors, Draco dropped into a chair next to Harry and rubbed soothing circles on his back until the heaving stopped.

'You ready to move?' Draco asked gently, vanishing the mess and pulling Harry to his feet when he nodded his agreement. He helped him down the stairs and deposited Harry in his en-suite bathroom, before disappearing back to his own room to retrieve a universal antidote which he kept in his Potions kit. He wasn't entirely sure what it was that the Muggle had given Harry to cause this reaction but he was confident that whatever it was, the antidote would cover it.

Harry was resting his head against the cool porcelain of the sink when Draco re-entered the bathroom and he struggled slightly to lift Harry into a sitting position and coax him to drink the potion. Obviously, some part of Harry's mind was scolding him for being so trusting in the first place.

Eventually, however, he was able to encourage Harry to swallow the potion and he allowed the dizzy boy to lean back against the sink again as he began to run a bath for him. Slowly, Harry's awareness began to return to him, his eyes beginning to regain some focus. Draco watched as Harry's expression slid from confusion to mortification.

'Fuck, Draco, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he said, his voice small and timid and Draco felt his heart break when he saw the tears brightening the green eyes.

'Shhhh, shhhh, no apologies,' he said, dropping into a crouch next to Harry and smoothing his hair back off his forehead. 'You have nothing to apologise for. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed, shall we?'

Harry nodded, squeezing his eyes closed tight as he tugged off his shirt and stood up to clean his teeth still leaning heavily on the sink. Draco sat on the toilet seat, looking anywhere but at Harry, as jeans were shed and he slid into the warm water of the bath.

'How do you feel?' Draco asked, needing to break the silence to avoid blurting out something stupid.

'Tired all over,' Harry admitted before sinking below the water to rinse his hair. 'And a little foggy,' he admitted when he re-emerged. 'Did what I think happened, happen?'

'What do you think happened?' Draco asked, wondering if he should inform him if he didn't remember.

'That guy, he was trying to…' Harry trailed off, clearly unable to say the words.

'He was,' Draco confirmed.

'Thank you,' Harry said, his voice quiet and Draco looked up sharply.

'What for?' he asked, confused.

'You know what for,' Harry said, a small smile finding its way on his face. 'You saved me.'

'I just did what anyone would have done in that situation,' Draco said, uncomfortable with the praise. _'And you wouldn't have even been in that situation if I hadn't disappeared in a jealous rage,'_ he added silently to himself. He was grateful when Harry let it drop.

Awkwardness crept over him again as Harry relinquished the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist. Draco had no idea what to do now. Harry was clearly competent enough to manage by himself but Draco was still reluctant to leave him and he hadn't yet commented on Draco's presence.

When Draco followed Harry back into the bedroom he realised that he really couldn't delay his departure any longer and since Harry was about to go to sleep, he really didn't have any cause to.

'I shall let you get some sleep now,' he said, reluctantly glancing from where Harry was nestling into bed, to the door and back.

The look on Harry's face was one of pure horror.

'Don't go, please?' Harry asked, and even had these not been the very words Draco was praying to hear, he wouldn't have been able to deny Harry.

'Scoot over then,' he said, dropping his jeans to the ground before sliding between crisp, cool sheets that smelt divine. He lay on his back, one hand folded behind his head, and willed his body not to respond to the half dressed boy next to him.

In the silence, the minutes stretched out and Draco was just beginning to wonder if Harry had fallen asleep and if he would get away with sneaking off for a quick shower and a change of clothes, when Harry spoke.

'I really am sorry, Draco,' he whispered and Draco rolled on to his side to look at him.

'I thought we covered this already?' he asked, just able to make out Harry's outline and his eyes glinting in the darkness.

'But it was my fault,' Harry explained and Draco felt his anger rise again. He considered going back to that alley to see if the bastard was still there so that he could kick him a few more times.

'I don't ever want to hear you say that, Harry, it was not your fault.' He reached out and stroked Harry's face, tucking the unruly hair behind his ear.

'But it was,' Harry protested. 'I know better than to do that,' he explained, 'but I was…' He paused, clearly embarrassed. 'I was trying to make you jealous,' he admitted.

Draco's heart felt like it might burst at that moment, it was so full of conflicting emotion. On the one hand, he was delighted, Harry had wanted him jealous; he had been trying to get his attention. On the other hand, he had put himself in incredible danger in order to get it and that terrified Draco.

'I'm sorry I shouldn't have…' Harry said, obviously mistaking the cause of Draco's silence.

'It worked,' Draco interrupted.

'What?' Harry asked, bemusement in his voice.

'It worked,' Draco said again. 'I was insanely, furiously jealous,' he admitted.

Harry shifted next to him and before he knew it, warm fingers were grazing themselves across his jaw to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and Harry's lips were brushing gently against his.

It took him a moment to respond but as soon as he figured out what was happening, he slid a hand around Harry's waist and tugged him forwards until they were pressed together, shoulder to hip.

Taking this as encouragement, Harry's kiss became bolder and a questing tongue flicked out and dragged itself across Draco's bottom lip to be granted immediate access. Tongues fought lazily and Draco's gave chase back into the toothpaste-cooled cavern of Harry's mouth, setting out to explore it thoroughly.

Slowly, a thought pushed its way into Draco's lust clouded mind. Harry had been through a horrible ordeal tonight. It wouldn't kill him to take this slowly, to make sure Harry wasn't just trying to rush into something and replace the memory of the other man's lips on his skin. With a restraint Draco didn't know he had, he pulled back from the kiss which he had spent months imagining, placing a gentle kiss to Harry's forehead.

'Tomorrow,' he promised and was rewarded with a beatific smile as Harry nuzzled closer, looping his own arm around Draco's waist and laying his head on his shoulder.

As Draco pressed his face against the top of Harry's head, inhaling the scent that he had grown to love, he realised that he really could wait. He would wait forever if it meant he got to be with Harry. His eyes drooped as sleep loomed closer and Draco surrendered himself to it more willingly than he had in a long time, comforted by the promise of tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 9 Where we Belong

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine and I have a little pout about that every day.

As always thanks the fabulous saras_girl who takes the time to correct all my wayward punctuation and is a wonderful muse.

Chapter Nine

Where We Belong

_What am I to you? Tell me daring true_

_To me you are the sea, as vast as you can be_

_And deep the shade of blue_

_When you're feeling low, to whom else do you go? _

_See I cry if you hurt, I'd give you my last shirt_

_Because I love you so._

_What am I to You – Norah Jones_

Warmth and comfort surrounded Harry as he drifted from his slumber at daybreak the next morning. It took him a moment to locate what was different but when he felt deep, slow breaths whispering across the back of his neck, the previous evening began to dribble back to him and he burrowed deeper into the warmth of Draco's embrace.

A lot of the details of the previous night were still fuzzy in Harry's mind but the elements he did remember left him feeling horribly conflicted and unsure as to whether he should really be seeking comfort from Draco at all, whilst simultaneously convinced that he couldn't decline what was offered.

He remembered going to the club well enough, remembered how amazing Draco had looked in the form fitting black jeans and t-shirt, which allowed the Dark Mark to be displayed on his pale forearm. Harry had spent a good hour that afternoon reasoning with Draco that there really was no reason to hide it whilst they were in the Muggle world. They would simply see it as a rather cool tattoo.

He remembered the disgusting shot that Draco had acquired for him. It had been all the proof he'd needed that peppermint and coconut were two flavours that most definitely did not belong together. He had been forced to flood his mouth with the rather potent beer in order to cleanse the taste from his palate.

He remembered following Draco onto the dance floor. He had been in danger of jumping on Draco right then. He had looked fucking divine as he had given himself over to the music, moving with fluid grace. Harry had been happy when the pretty brunette had situated herself in front of him, as she offered him a distraction and helped him to keep his eyes off of Draco for more than a moment at a time.

He had been less impressed when the gothic-looking girl had begun to dance with Draco, if you could really call what she was doing dancing. She appeared to be involved in the advanced stages of foreplay; even more irritating was that Draco appeared to be enjoying it rather a lot. Harry had felt the hot spike of jealousy shoot through him. It really wasn't fair; he should be the one pressed against Draco, Draco's hands resting on his hips, guiding him as they moved together.

He had just been about to sulk off to the bar to get another drink, in the hope that Draco would follow, abandoning the harlot that was writhing against him, when a firm torso had pressed against his back, and a male hand snaked its way around his waist to rest gently on his abdomen. A rough voice in his ear informed him that the hand's owner had been watching him for a while, unable to keep his eyes off him and possibly the stupidest idea that Harry had ever had sprang into his head.

He would show Draco. If _he_ could dance like that with a girl on the dance floor, then damn it, Harry was going to do so, too, and with this random stranger. That would shock him. Maybe then Draco would actually seize the next sexually tense moment that occurred between them and do something with it.

Actually putting this plan into action, however, was easier said than done. The controlling hand against his stomach and the stale breath against his neck made him feel undeniably tense, a feeling that was not helped by the unfamiliar hardness that was pressed against the small of his back. He ached for the familiar, casual touches of Draco and that minty fresh fragrance that seemed to hang around him permanently.

He became alarmed when the rough voice compelled him to relax and a hand pressed the beer bottle to his lips encouraging him, forcefully, to drink. This guy was much bigger than he was, much stronger; if it weren't for his wand, pressing reassuringly against his calf, he would have been out of there as quickly as possible. From there, things became a little hazy.

He remembered that his limbs had begun to feel heavy and the voice had suggested that Harry should get some air. Harry had thought it was a good idea, an opportunity to lose this guy, who was just all wrong, and find Draco again.

He remembered being shoved roughly against a wall as hands fumbled with his jeans, wet lips on his throat. He had tried to push him away, knowing deep down that something was very wrong but he'd found it rather difficult to lift his arms.

He remembered seeing Draco the moment he appeared at the end of the alley. Wand raised, eyes flashing with fury as the harsh street lights glinted off his pale blond hair, making him appear to Harry every bit the avenging angel.

Then he was at his side, Draco's scent and his warmth wrapping around Harry like a blanket between him and the world. Draco's arm was around Harry's waist, taking his weight, as his head drooped to rest on the warm shoulder. He was stroking Harry's back as he vomited. He was cradling Harry's head as he poured potion down his throat.

After the potion had kicked in and the world had swum back into clarity, Harry remembered clearly the slight awkwardness that had existed between them as he had prepared for bed. He had wanted to offer Draco reassurance, tell him that he appreciated his comforting, steady presence. So he did. He had confessed his feelings for Draco, or at least he thought he had. One thing was for certain however, he had kissed Draco and Draco had kissed him and, wrapped in the safety of Draco's arms, he found sleep surprisingly easily considering the unsettling events that had transpired.

It was Draco's presence that prevented Harry from even checking to see how the previous night rated against the list, which he despairingly referred to as 'The Top Five'. As distressing as it had been, there was no way it stacked up against the other 'worst nights' of Harry's life

The night that Sirius had been snatched away only hours after he had returned to Harry's life. The night Cedric died and Riddle returned. The night Sirius died and Voldemort had possessed him. The night Dumbledore had sacrificed his health for a pointless trinket, resulting in his death and a whole host of other things that were now infinitely more uncomfortable to think about because of the heated body pressed to his back. The night that he himself had died, only to return to a world that so many others had left. All these nights had one thing in common. Harry had been left to face the aftermath alone.

Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione had all tried to help in their own ways, but their words could never be anything more than cold comfort. They had expected, had needed Harry to remain strong, to be brave, to deal and move on. Draco had taken care of him, had been strong when he could not stand. Had offered the warmth and protection he had always craved.

But that had been last night and Draco had been drunk, though Harry thought that the incident had probably sobered him up somewhat. Still, the night was over and for once the dawn didn't bring with it the promise of a new chance, but the realisation that the chance he'd had may have been squandered.

It was rational to consider that in the light of day, Draco would realise just how much Harry had asked of him and run. Perhaps he would be frustrated at Harry's carelessness. Maybe he would be angry at Harry's attempts to manipulate him.

That was what he had done, after all. He had tried to make Draco jealous, and when the plan had backfired, leaving Harry in danger, he had played on Draco's sympathies. Realistically, he would be lucky if Draco could even stand to be around Harry in the aftermath of his stupidity.

As the guilt began to overwhelm him, Harry felt unable to continue drawing comfort from Draco's embrace and extracted himself, taking care not to wake his friend. As he reached the door, Harry looked back at Draco's sleeping form.

He was still wearing the t-shirt he'd worn to the club last night, blond hair fanned across the navy blue pillow; he looked quite angelic with a warm flush to his cheeks and his full pink lips slightly parted as he breathed softly. As Harry watched, Draco reached into the space that Harry had just vacated and, finding it empty, wrapped his arms around Harry's pillow, pressing his face against it. Harry smiled slightly and slid from the room. He needed to think; he needed to run.

By the time Harry had returned from his run, snuck a quick shower in the main bathroom so as not to disturb Draco and set the coffee to percolate, he somehow felt worse about his impending altercation with Draco. There was no way this was going to end well. The fact that he had tried to trick Draco into caring about him weighed heavily on his mind and he knew that this would be a very hard thing to forgive.

He was furious at himself; he had managed to secure the one thing he wanted a way that would ensure he couldn't keep it. This realisation swirled round and round in Harry's head, bringing him to the brink of tears as he sat at the table and sipped at coffee he could barely taste.

So engrossed was he in feeling sorry for himself that he didn't hear Draco enter the kitchen; he wasn't even aware of his presence until Draco's cool hand slid across Harry's shoulders, causing him to jump slightly and look round. Harry caught a glimpse of dark grey eyes before Draco's lips were pressed warmly, reassuringly against his own.

'Good morning,' Draco drawled lazily, a smile of contentment on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee and slid into the chair across from Harry.

'Morning,' Harry responded slightly nervously, still unsure of how this would pan out. Draco appeared to be fine about everything but maybe he just hadn't thought it through yet. This train of thought shattered as Draco slid his foot against the back of Harry's leg under the table. Harry gasped slightly.

Draco frowned and, lowering his coffee cup to the table, pulled his foot away.

'I'm sorry, I didn't think,' he began in a rush. 'I'm sure this is the last thing you want after yesterday,' Draco apologised, a dejected look on his face.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Draco was under the impression Harry was rejecting him and he rushed to correct the misconception.

Rising from his chair he traversed the table to crouch next to Draco, taking his hand.

'No, Draco, it's not that at all it's just…' He struggled to identify just what it was he was trying to say. 'Aren't you mad at me?'

'Why would I be mad at you?' Draco asked, a look of astonishment on his face.

'I tried to manipulate you, I put us both in danger,' Harry said reluctantly, loathe to put the thought into Draco's head

'Stupid Gryffindor.' Draco grinned with a shake of his head and he leant forward to capture Harry's mouth once more. Draco's lips were warm and tasted of coffee and the honey that he used to sweeten all his drinks. Without releasing Harry's mouth, Draco placed his hands on his waist encouraging him up out of his crouch and onto his lap. Harry stumbled for a moment as he struggled to get one leg on the other side of the chair, allowing him to straddle Draco's thighs.

Harry was rewarded for his efforts, however, with the first brush of Draco's clothed erection against his own. Harry gasped as sparks of pleasure swept through him. Draco took advantage of this, tongue darting forwards, seeking out Harry's and beginning a passionate dance. Harry felt like he was flying as he gripped the back of the chair for support and tangled his fingers in the ridiculously soft blond hair, returning Draco's kiss with enthusiasm.

His chest was screaming for air but Harry refused to listen as Draco's hands settled on his thighs and slid upwards to cup Harry's buttocks and pull him closer, increasing the pressure on Harry's erection and the contact with his own. Finally Draco pulled back slightly, resting their foreheads together and Harry gasped in air, panting with need.

'Sorry, didn't mean to get quite so carried away,' Draco muttered breathlessly. Harry frowned at the apology and, using the hand tangled in Draco's hair as leverage, he tilted his head back so that he could place small kisses across Draco's jaw.

'No apologies,' he muttered before running the tip of his tongue across the hollow at the bottom of Draco's throat and placing his lips around his Adam's apple, sucking lightly.

Draco moaned, a long needy sound that went straight to Harry's cock. He gripped Harry's hips hard and thrust up against him, grinding their erections together through their clothes. To Harry, nothing had ever felt so good and he wriggled, pressing himself back against Draco, needing the contact more than anything else at that moment.

Seemingly spurred on by Harry's response, Draco began to thrust repeatedly against him and Harry sought out the warmth of Draco's mouth as he arched his spine to press his own cock against Draco's just a little more. The kiss was haphazard, just occasional swipes of tongues and brushes of lips and, as heat began to pool in Harry's groin, it became more of a shared breath than a kiss.

Then Draco was stiffening, arching out of the chair beneath him, moaning into his mouth and pulling down on Harry's hips, pressing their groins impossibly close and Harry's breath faltered as he felt his own release wash over him.

Aftershocks brought with them a familiar drowsy calm and Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Draco's shoulders, burrowing his face into the side of his neck and inhaling the scent of coffee and mint and sex, which made Harry's chest want to burst with contentment.

After a couple of minutes, Draco's voice began to swim into Harry's somewhat fuzzy brain.

'I think we need to get up, Harry,' Draco said and Harry was pleased to hear that Draco sounded just as dazed as Harry felt.

'Hmmm?' Harry questioned. He'd heard the words and knew that something was required of him but it wasn't quite coming together.

'We need to get up,' Draco insisted, a little more aware and rubbing Harry's thigh briskly. 'You are dead weight all of a sudden and I can't feel my feet,' he explained. 'Now up,' and he gave Harry a light smack on the arse.

Harry struggled to his feet, wondering absently when it was that his bones had been replaced with marshmallow. He took a couple of paces backwards to allow Draco space to get up and became aware of the rapidly cooling stickiness that had settled in his jeans.

'I think I need to change,' he muttered distractedly, drawing a snort of laughter from Draco. Harry glanced up to see an indulgent smile spreading across Draco's face.

'I don't know; one orgasm and the Saviour completely forgets he's a wizard,' Draco mused, aiming a Cleaning Charm at him and Harry felt somewhat foolish.

'Come on, I think you need to sit down before you fall down,' Draco suggested and took his hand, tugging him towards the family room.

Harry slumped heavily onto the couch and looped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him down, too. It was clumsily done, however, and Draco more fell into Harry's lap.

'Ooof, you could have just asked, Harry,' Draco complained without any real bite as he slid between Harry's thighs and leaned back to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry leant forward pressing his face into the super soft fabric of Draco's shirt.

'Couldn't,' Harry argued ineffectually, muttering into the fabric, and smiling as Draco chuckled softly.

The silence that followed was comfortable and Harry found himself drifting on the edge of consciousness. He was still awake; he was aware of Draco's weight and warmth against him, could feel the soft little puffs of breath against the arm which he had wrapped around Draco's chest, holding him. Still, despite this awareness, Harry was not convinced he would be able to ever get his body to move from this comfortable position.

'I know you said no apologies,' Draco said quietly, his voice sounding low and contented and warm in Harry's ears.

'Mmmm?' Harry asked, pressing just slightly closer, tightening his arms around Draco in a small gesture of reassurance that he really didn't have anything to apologise for.

'But I really didn't mean to get that carried away,' he admitted and Harry grinned, smiling into the soft fabric at the suggestion that he had caused Draco to lose the grip on his tightly-held self-control.

'I'm glad we did,' Harry said slowly, as he forced himself to concentrate hard to form those few simple words; his ability to think slowly began to trickle back to him.

'I've wanted to kiss you for weeks,' Harry admitted, aware that the confession would leave him open and vulnerable but knowing somewhere irrefutable that it was safe to be so.

Draco twisted against him, turning so he could face Harry. Harry met Draco's gaze, his breath catching at the look of intent on his face. Long delicate fingers came up to brush along Harry's jaw and stroke across his bottom lip.

'Well then, I guess we have a lot of time to make up,' Draco muttered, leaning forwards until they were impossibly close. Harry could see the tiny flecks of blue in the grey eyes that reminded him of the sea before a storm and the thin charcoal band that edged the bright silver, containing it and giving Draco a look of intensity that made Harry want to shiver.

Draco's breath whispered over Harry's lips for long moments, just fractionally out of reach. Harry longed for the distance to be closed but he waited, breath hitching slightly in his chest, for Draco to close the final few millimetres.

At the first brush of the unfathomably soft lips, Harry felt himself shatter into a thousand pieces; then, at the first swipe of the sure, purposeful tongue Harry melted and reformed, like that robot in the movie he had once seen Dudley watching.

The world narrowed down to the soft hair under his hand, the long fingers brushing his jaw, the scent of mint and taste of coffee, as tongues fought in a lazy battle for domination, neither really caring who won, until Harry was no longer aware of time passing, of where he stopped and where Draco began.

A tapping at the window threatened to break into the cocoon and Harry frowned slightly, refusing to relinquish the kiss, but knowing that the moment would soon be over and desperate to grasp just a couple more seconds of it. The tapping came again, louder this time, and now Draco became aware of it, the lips faltered slightly against his own but did not stop.

At the third interruption, Draco pulled back, eyes closed, hair dishevelled and lips swollen and Harry pressed down the urge to leap forward and pin him to the couch.

'I don't think they are going to get the hint,' Draco said breathily and slowly began to disentangle himself from Harry. Harry felt the loss keenly but reasoned that the sooner he dealt with the intrusion, the sooner he could work on getting back to the truly important things.

Rising slightly shakily, Harry headed to the family room window and opened it, allowing two almost identical tawny owls to enter the room. Each carried a thick bundle of yellowish parchment. Harry felt his stomach freefall. He had known this moment was coming ever since Hermione had mentioned it on the terrace that day but he had tried hard to push it from his mind, hoping that if he didn't think about it then it might never happen. He scolded himself internally at this; when had that ever worked for him in the past?

He heard the scuffle of leather as Draco rose from the couch and came to stand behind him and Harry felt a little pull of happiness as he realised that he would be able to locate Draco in a pitch black room. This realisation was quickly overwhelmed with panic again when his gaze settled back on the two Hogwarts owls. Draco pressed himself to Harry's back, resting his chin on his shoulder.

'What is it?' he asked, pressing a warm kiss to Harry's neck.

'Hogwarts owls,' Harry said, hoping that saying it out loud would reduce the cold fear that was gripping his gut. He groped backwards for Draco's hand and continued to stare at the feathered messengers.

Finally one of the owls hooted impatiently, and summoning his courage, Harry stepped forward to retrieve his Hogwarts letter; seeing that Draco still hadn't moved, he relieved the second bird, too. He decided against passing Draco his envelope as the birds took off out of the still open window and simply placed the letter on the table. When Draco was ready, he would take it, but Harry would not push him.

Looking at his own letter, he ran a finger over the fine green script on the front of the envelope, feeling the slightly rough texture of the parchment; he recalled all the summers that this letter had carried with it promises of fresh starts and new beginnings. Trying to summon some of that previous enthusiasm, he slid his finger under the heavy wax seal and tugged out the parchment within.

It was as Hermione had already told him. The whole of last year was being stricken from the record due to the tiny number of students who had actually returned that year as well as what McGonagall had chosen to call, 'sub-standard teaching practices.' It also informed that because of 'recent events', the Hogwarts term of 1998 would be beginning on the fifth of October to allow for restorations to be completed. The Hogwarts Express would leave at eleven, on the morning of the fourth.

There were three other sheets of paper included in the envelope. The first was the list of the NEWTS that he had been entered for. Next came the obligatory equipment and book list which Harry didn't even bother to glance at, and finally, a letter from Professor McGonagall herself.

Harry extracted this sheet of parchment and slid the rest on to the table next to Draco's letter. Draco stepped forward to pick them up, clearly more comfortable reading Harry's letter than approaching the one addressed to him. Harry slid his arm around Draco's waist in a silent show of support and couldn't help the little smile that formed when Draco covered the hand resting on his abdomen with his own free hand.

Harry turned his attention to the additional letter. It was short and it was cryptic. It spoke of matters they needed to discuss and a favour she needed to ask and suggested that she come by today at midday— in a little less than an hour. Harry was left wondering how she had been certain that he would have received his letter in time. Then he scolded himself, this was magic, not science. There wasn't always a how; sometimes things just were.

Harry's mind raced, thinking of all the things that the professor might wish to discus with him.

'McGonagall is coming here,' Harry muttered to Draco, who was now staring blankly at the parchment in his hand, a grim set to his mouth. 'She wants to ask me a favour,' Harry added, when Draco glanced sideways at him.

'When?' Draco asked, somehow paling even further.

'Forty-five minutes,' he said with a glance at his watch.

Draco dropped Harry's hand to rub nervously at his face.

'The hospital doesn't have visiting time until two,' Draco mused. 'I suppose I could go out and get a coffee or something?' he suggested.

'You don't have to go anywhere, Draco.' Harry frowned, confused. 'I mean, if you really don't want to be here, you don't have to be, but I'd like it if you stayed. I'm a little nervous myself, to tell you the truth; I don't know what she wants but I'm certain if she needs to say it in person it can't be good,' he pointed out.

'But she'll think… she'll realise…' Draco looked slightly alarmed at Harry's suggestion.

'I think she probably already knows you're staying here, Draco,' Harry pointed out, reluctantly indicating the unopened letter.

'And you're okay with that?' Draco asked and Harry noticed with relief that the tone was one of nervous optimism and not horror as he had feared it might be.

'Of course I am; why would I not be?' Harry asked.

Draco's response was mumbled and, for the most part, incomprehensible.

'… Death Eater…' was all that Harry managed to catch and he tugged Draco into a hug.

'I am not now nor will I ever be ashamed to be seen with you,' Harry asserted, deciding to cut right to the heart of this problem before it had the opportunity to fester. He fixed Draco with a gaze that willed him to believe and watched as the silver eyes searched his own for some sign that it was an exaggeration or a lie. Harry knew the moment Draco had been satisfied as a broad smile broke out on his face.

'In that case, I shall remain here,' Draco said, affecting a tone that suggested he was doing Harry a tremendous favour, but Harry saw the warm gratitude in his eyes.

'Tea?' Draco asked and Harry nodded, delighted for the distraction.

Harry suddenly felt concerned that this was all becoming a little intense rather quickly, but then he supposed his relationship with Draco had always been intense in one way or another.

* * *

When Professor McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace, Harry felt immediately grateful that Draco had agreed to stay. Something about the set of the woman's jaw convinced him that he was going to need all the moral support he could get.

'I'm glad to see you looking well, Mr Potter,' she greeted.

'You too, Professor,' Harry said politely and she smiled wryly, catching the lie. Harry blushed slightly. 'Draco is just putting the kettle on again, can we offer you some tea?'

She was surprised. She had covered it quickly, but not quickly enough to escape notice and Harry wondered what it was about Draco making tea that was surprising. He had to work hard to suppress a snort at his own absurdity. What was it about Draco's presence that _wasn't_ surprising?

'Thank you, Mr Potter, tea would be delightful,' she agreed and waited for him to lead the way, despite knowing where she was going.

Stepping into the kitchen, Harry immediately sought out Draco's eyes, seeking for the support he knew he was going to need and was delighted when he found it.

'Mr Malfoy,' came Professor McGonagall's greeting from behind him and Harry watched as Draco's eyes slipped nervously to the professor.

'Professor,' Draco responded in clipped, tight tones that spoke volumes about his present discomfort. He passed Harry the tray with the cups and milk and sugar and allowed their fingers to brush lightly as he did, offering a small uncertain smile.

'Please take a seat, Professor,' Harry asked placing down the tray and slipping into his chair. When Draco bought the teapot across moments later, he eschewed his normal seat to slide into the one next to Harry, allowing their thighs to rest lightly against each other.

'I shall not beat about the bush, Harry,' the professor said suddenly, when she realised Draco would be staying for their conversation and Harry couldn't help but be thankful for her directness.

'There are many matters that need to be resolved before the school term begins again and two of these involve you. I shall deal with the most pressing first,' she continued, and Harry had the distinct feeling of being back in a class room.

'I have been trying, among other positions to fill the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and as you can imagine this has been a difficult search.'

Harry nodded; he knew the question was rhetorical but it was important to him to demonstrate that he was listening.

'Well, I have finally found someone willing to take the job, but he will only do so on one condition.'

Harry sucked in a preparatory breath; this was going to have something to do with his hero status, he knew it, the prickle of discomfort was already settling under his skin. Draco's hand alighted on his knee and immediately he felt its calming effect.

'He refuses to teach a Defence Against the Dark Arts class with you in it,' Professor McGonagall explained, and Harry released his breath in a short puff of disbelief.

'He won't teach me?' Harry said slowly, trying to grasp the concept, and a little scathing noise came from beside him.

'He won't teach Harry because he's afraid he'll show him up,' Draco scoffed and Harry looked to McGonagall to see if she confirmed or denied the accusation.

'He refuses to teach you because he is concerned that the other students will look to you for the answers rather than him; he feels that it will be impossible to maintain control over the class with you there,' she explained.

Harry could tell that Draco was entirely unconvinced.

'Obviously you are going to need your Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT if you are to become an Auror, however, but I feel, and the examiners agree with me, that you are already more than capable of passing your NEWT, so if it is agreeable to you I should like you to sit it in one month's time, before the term starts.'

Harry was speechless; he wasn't sure whether to be amused, irritated or flattered.

'Obviously, under normal circumstances I would never allow a teacher to dictate who they would or would not teach, but right now it is either that or the subject won't be taught next term,' she explained apologetically.

'Of course, Professor, I understand how difficult it must have been,' he said slightly dully. 'I don't want to cause any trouble,' he agreed and was quickly settling into irritation. No matter what happened, people were never going to let him just blend in.

'Thank you, Harry,' McGonagall said genuinely and Harry felt mildly mollified. It wasn't her fault this guy was insecure, after all.

'You said there were two things,' Harry prompted; he wanted to get this over with now, wanted to wrap his arms around Draco and lose himself in his kisses and forget all about Hogwarts for another two months.

'I did, I also wanted to ask you a favour,' she said and Harry raised his eyebrows a little. She didn't think that agreeing to take his exam a year early to avoid offending a teacher's delicate sensibility was a favour. Interesting.

'I'm listening,' Harry responded, the anxiety building again.

'I want you to consider taking the position of Head Boy.'

Harry opened his mouth to protest but McGonagall jumped in again.

'Please, before you say no, hear my reasons for asking this of you? Next year is going to be difficult. I have reset the years and invited everyone back because education must continue but I am very concerned about re-opening the school. There will be animosity between the students. I'm sure you are aware of what I am speaking,' she said, levelling a gaze at Draco.

'You're talking about the Slytherins?' Harry deduced. 'You think the students are going to seek revenge against Slytherin house?'

'Not necessarily exclusively, but principally, yes,' she agreed.

'You have the ability to lead the students to encourage them to make amends, and you also have the inclination. Since the moment you stood beside me in the Great Hall I knew that you would be able to do this,' she enthused.

Harry felt a weariness settle over him; it was familiar, he remembered this feeling well. The weariness of having to live up to other people's expectations, of having responsibility he had never sought. Draco's hand squeezed his knee slightly and Harry sought it out with his own, turning it over and lacing their fingers together.

'I was really just hoping for a quiet year, Professor,' he protested, and then for good measure: 'Also, I think you're overplaying my influence, I don't think people will get on simply because I tell them to.'

At his side, Draco gave an almost imperceptible smile and shake of his head and it was on the tip of Harry's tongue to ask him, _'What?'_

'I'm not expecting you to solve everything, Harry,' she said in a tone that approached warm and reassuring. 'I just think it would be nice if our Head Boy were to lead by example in these situations and, no matter what you say, the students will look to you for leadership.'

Harry sighed and scrubbed at his face with his free hand. He could feel the beginning of a headache starting to throb in his temples. He really didn't want to do this.

'I'm sorry, Professor, I just don't think I can, besides isn't Head Boy supposed to be a prefect?' he said, grasping at straws, in the hope she would drop it.

'Not always,' she dismissed, 'In fact your father was Head Boy without being a prefect first.'

Harry frowned, was she insinuating what he thought she was? That had sounded distinctly like a 'Do it to make your father proud' moment. The frown turned into a scowl.

'You don't need to give me an answer now,' McGonagall rushed, clearly sensing that she was losing him. 'Just think about it for a while, please, Harry?' she asked. 'I don't need to fill this position until September.'

She rose from her chair, smoothing her robes, clearly determined to leave before Harry could refuse again.

'I shall leave you and Mr Malfoy to your afternoon,' she said with a small smile and Harry reluctantly disentangled his hand from Draco's, manners dictating that he needed to see the professor out.

As the rush of flames carried McGonagall away, Harry slumped against the wall until he was sitting on the sun-warmed floor of the hallway, his now throbbing head resting in his hands. He did not want to be Head Boy.

The soft swoosh of socks on wood came closer and Draco's long elegant fingers closed around Harry's wrists. With out a word, he tugged Harry to his feet and led him up to the second floor. On gaining entrance to Harry's room, Draco slid on to the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him and back against the head board. He tugged Harry's wrist once more and gently nudged and encouraged him until he was laid on his back, head resting in Draco's lap.

Cool fingers sought out Harry's temples and began to rub soothing little circles there. Harry moaned softly and closed his eyes, allowing Draco to relieve his headache slightly. They sat in silence, simply enjoying each other's company until Harry began to feel himself relax again.

'I just want to have a normal school year, you know?' he began and Draco ceased his massage to begin carding his fingers through Harry's messy black hair.

'I wanted one year where I could just worry about teenage things, homework and what stupid thing Ron had done and how I was going to sneak into your dorm,' he said, adding the last with a cheeky smile.

Draco's fingers ceased their movement and Harry opened his eyes. A small frown had settled on Draco's brow and there was a troubled look in the grey eyes.

'I don't think I'm going to go back, Harry.' Draco's voice was almost a whisper.

'What? Why not?' Harry asked, and he could hear the note of panic in his voice.

'You heard what McGonagall said,' he explained softly. 'There's going to be a lot of animosity this year, the rest of the school against the Slytherins. Now imagine the animosity they will direct towards me. I actually fought on Voldemort's side; I bear the mark of one of his servants. There is no way they will accept my presence there,' he explained sadly.

'And if that weren't enough it will be even worse with Slytherin house. As much as the rest of the school would like to believe that Slytherin was exclusively a proving ground for Voldemort's supporters, the truth is there were maybe twenty of us in the entire house and everyone else was painted with the same brush. We would have been in continuous danger from our own house members but we grouped together and became fearsome, untouchable.' The look in Draco's eye became far away and thoughtful and absently he resumed his hair stroking.

'Were I to return, I would have a target on my back twenty-four seven. I wouldn't even be safe in my own dorm. Blamed by the non-Voldemort supporters for their ostracism, reviled by those who did support him for turning traitor.'

'But your exams, what were you going to do after school?' Harry protested and then, realising the foolishness of this question, added, 'Before Riddle returned.'

An impotent rage was beginning to curl in his gut. He had fought in order to prevent persecution but further persecution had been born from the fight and now his own side were going to deny him the only comfort he really wanted as a reward.

'I had planned on an illustrious career as a dilettante,' Draco quipped with a wry smile. 'Somehow I don't think that a lack of exams will be a disadvantage in that case.'

'Is that what you still want?' Harry asked carefully.

'No,' he said resignedly. 'Ideally, I'd like to do something that makes a difference, I want to give something back, maybe, but dilettante isn't a terrible job, all things considered.'

They fell into silence again, Harry's mind whirring as he attempted to come up with a solution that would allow Draco to return to school. His thoughts kept coming back to the same place however and it was with a touch of trepidation that he approached his fate.

'The Head Boy gets a private room; you could stay with me so you wouldn't have to sleep in the dorms. Also, McGonagall is right, as much as I wish they'd all just ignore me, if I tell the other students that you are off limits then a lot of them will just listen and I'll have the power to come down on those who need a little more persuading.'

Draco's were wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open and his hand frozen in place atop Harry's head.

'But… but you don't want to be Head Boy,' Draco stuttered slightly. 'You'd really make that sacrifice for me?'

Harry grinned slightly.

'The real sacrifice would be leaving you behind so that I could get a little peace and quiet. This is no sacrifice at all,' Harry said, reaching up to hook a hand round the back of Draco's neck and weaving his fingers into the silky strands. 'So will you come back to Hogwarts with me? I don't think I want to do it alone.'

'I really have no way to refuse.' Draco shrugged slightly, a broad grin spreading across his face. Harry returned it and tugged Draco down into a kiss.


	11. Chapter 10 Finding Balance

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but if one of the people who does would like to gift them to me then I'd be very okay with that.

A/N: It would appear that when I was writing this chapter I was channelling Natasha as this chapter is looooong, well at least it is by my standards. Also I apologise to any one who read this on Friday afternoon, somehow I managed to upload the unedited version.

Chapter 10

Finding Balance

_I don't know what it is that makes me feel alive_

_I don't know how to wake the things that sleep inside_

_I only want to see the light that shines behind your eyes_

_Because we need each other_

_We believe in one another_

_And I know were going to uncover _

_What's sleeping in our souls._

_Acquiesce – Oasis_

Draco snuggled deeper into the soft, heavy duvet, once again admiring Harry's clever spell work. The light-drenched bedroom was wrapped in a series of complex cooling and warming charms that were tied to the wards, ensuring that the room would never be too cold but, in the midst of a very warm August, it was still cool enough to enjoy the comforts of one's duvet.

Draco loved this bit of the morning. Harry had left the bed about ninety minutes ago with a light brush of lips on Draco's forehead, and from there he had begun to slowly wake up, just dozing and drifting casually in and out of sleep, gaining a little more consciousness as the sound of each stage of Harry's routine drifted up through the old wooden floors.

Now with the final rattle of the pipes that indicated Harry had finished his shower, he was lying waiting for Harry to enter the room with the coffee at which point he would slide back in between the sheets pressing his cool, slightly damp body against Draco's and kissing him thoroughly, morning breath and all.

This routine hadn't varied even slightly in the two weeks since Harry had first kissed Draco and Draco wouldn't change it even slightly, not even to ask Harry to dry off properly after his shower. The impatience that lived in Harry's quick, ineffectual rub down was well worth the couple of moments of subsequent discomfort.

The only thing Draco would change came after Harry had wrapped his body around him and before they retrieved their coffee and drifted into easy conversation about their plans. Two weeks, and apart from that lust-driven moment at the kitchen table on the very first morning, they were still yet to do anything more than kiss.

Not that Draco minded the kissing, of course; Harry approached kissing with the same focus and intensity that he approached everything else and it always left Draco feeling dazed and breathless. Still, Draco wouldn't be averse to him applying that focus and intensity to some of the other things that they could get up to but Harry seemed completely oblivious that there were things that could come after kissing.

He had thought about simply talking to Harry about it on several occasions, but talking about it would mean actually acknowledging what they were doing. It was pretty obvious to him what they were doing, of course, but there was a formality that came from talking about it and as much as he hated to admit it, Draco was rather insecure about the whole thing.

What if once it was put into words, once it was formalised, Harry realised what a stupid mistake he was making? Granted, that wasn't very likely; Harry was insanely noble, and Draco couldn't imagine for a second that he would be the sort of person to embark on any type of relationship lightly. Still, Draco's own experience was with people who were exactly like that and Draco just didn't seem to be able to avoid comparing Harry to them, no matter how much of a disservice it did Harry.

The clinking of cups sounded through the floorboards and Draco groaned, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. Harry would walk through that door in five minutes time. He would be smelling divine and he would swoop on Draco, kissing him until Draco was thoroughly wound up before settling back with his coffee and Draco still had no idea what he was going to do about it.

'_Just think about it logically,'_ he told himself, there were a limited number of reasons why they hadn't progressed at all. He could immediately rule out the idea that Harry didn't want to; the evidence of his interest had been a perpetual accompaniment to the brush of Harry's lips and the slide of his tongue.

It could be that Harry just wasn't ready for the next step, that he thought it was still too soon to do anything more than kissing. The attempted assault, after all, was bound to have left him severely shaken and Draco wouldn't blame him if he just wasn't interested in going further at the moment.

The problem with that theory was, of course, that their most intimate act to date had taken place the morning after that fateful night and Harry had said at the time that he'd enjoyed it, that he was glad it had happened. In addition, Draco seriously doubted that were Harry actually uncomfortable with the idea of further intimacy then he would continue to invite him to his bed night after night.

That left one solution as far as Draco could see; Harry didn't know what to do next. Draco had avoided making the next move because he had wanted the reassurance that it was what Harry had wanted. If Harry didn't know what was involved with the next step, however, he would probably appreciate Draco's help.

The more he thought about it, the more Draco realised that he had made the first move that first day and Harry had gone along with it, eager to allow Draco to take control of the situation. He was going to have to push the situation, going to have to take control and just hope that Harry would say something if he wasn't comfortable.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked, there was the soft swish of the door opening and the room filled with the scent of coffee and cinnamon. There were two soft clunks as Harry set the coffee on the bedside table and Draco raised his head and wondered for a moment if he was actually going to be able to do this. Harry smiled at him sweetly, skin still flushed slightly from the exercise and the warm water. His pale green t-shirt was sticking to him slightly, darkening where it touched damp skin, and all of Draco's doubts were washed away leaving one question: how had he waited this long?

Reaching up, Draco hooked a hand around the back of Harry's head and pulled him down into a long kiss. Harry fell forward on to his hands and knees and leaned down eagerly over Draco to return the kiss, tongues swirling languidly. It would end soon unless Draco changed the rules right now.

Pressing upwards he increased the intensity of the kiss, nipping at Harry's lower lip and taking eager possession of his mouth. He felt Harry gasp slightly and was spurred on. With dexterity which surprised even him, he flipped them, reversing their positions in an instant. Now Harry was on his back and Draco was lounging across him. Harry looked up at Draco with wide eyed excitement and Draco felt his cock twitch at the silent invitation.

He attacked Harry's mouth again, this time taking complete control and within moments, Harry's hands were on his back, sliding down and stroking across Draco's buttocks, urging him onwards as he moaned softly into the kiss.

Draco left Harry's mouth, kissing and licking along his jaw and down his neck, leaving a damp path in his wake, enjoying the salty taste of Harry on his tongue as his hand sought the hem of his t-shirt and began sliding it upwards. As his fingers traced over the smooth, cool skin of Harry's defined abdomen, tugging the shirt with it as he went, he found himself growing impossibly hard and it was all he could do to stop himself from simply rutting against Harry until he came.

With Harry's shirt bunched up under his arms, Draco abandoned Harry's neck to begin on the smooth, tanned skin of his chest. As his tongue slipped out to circle a dusky pink nipple Harry groaned, arching against Draco who felt fingers scrabbling to grip the edge of his own t-shirt, tugging it up over his head.

Breathing deeply and trying to calm himself slightly, Draco sat up, straddling Harry's thighs and taking in the beautiful sight beneath him. Harry's pupils were blown with desire, leaving only a thin corona of green surrounding them. His tanned skin was so flushed it looked ruddy, and his moist bottom lip was caught between his teeth in a look of apprehension.

Holding the eye contact, Draco allowed his fingers to drift to the fly of Harry's jeans, where he paused, looking for any sign that it was okay for him to continue. Not that he had any idea what he would do if Harry said no. Luckily for both of them, Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod and though Draco knew he was smirking slightly as he began to work open Harry's button fly, he was powerless to do anything about it.

Draco took his time, watching as each new inch of smooth skin came into view. He lifted slightly, giving himself the space to pull the soft denim down enough to reveal tight fitting shorts and tip of Harry's erection poking from the waistband as it lay stiffly against his stomach. With a lot less hesitation, Draco dragged down the shorts as well and then finally swiped his palm across the silky skin of Harry's cock, delighting at the feeling of it jumping against his touch.

Harry's hands shifted from the place they'd been resting on Draco's thighs towards the waistband of his boxers. Realising that Harry was in no position to relive him of his underwear, Draco paused in his reverent stroking for a moment to adhere to Harry's wishes. After a moment's struggling he was almost free; all he needed to do was lift his right knee and…

Draco felt himself overbalance before he began to fall with his ankles tied together by his recalcitrant underwear. He sprawled on his side, bouncing slightly against the firm mattress, and squeezed his eyes tight shut against the flush of embarrassment that he could feel burning beneath his skin.

The bed shook slightly beneath him and he could hear the stuttered breathing of Harry's suppressed laughter. Opening his eyes, he fixed Harry with what he hoped was his most baleful glare. Unfortunately, this did nothing to quell Harry's mirth and amusement sparkled in the green eyes as he pressed his lips together in a tight line and desperately tried not to add to Draco's embarrassment.

The sight of Harry trying so hard to suppress his amusement tugged gently at the edges of Draco's irritation and gradually he felt himself give into a smile of his own, chuckling softly. Harry scooted closer and pressed a reassuring kiss to Draco's lips, still unable to stop smiling, and Draco slowly began to regain his train of thought and looped an arm round Harry's back, pulling him closer so that their now bare chests and groins were pressed together.

At the first delicious slide of Harry's erection against his own he gasped and sunk his fingers into the supple flesh of Harry's arse. Harry began to thrust against him impatiently and Draco drew back slightly, seeking to regain some control of the situation.

Bringing the arm that was trapped underneath him up to cup Harry's cheek, he allowed the fingers of his other hand to trail from where they had rested on Harry's buttocks across Harry's hip, noting with pleasure the way he shivered when they traced across his hipbone.

As quickly as it had arrived, the amusement was gone, and Draco held Harry's lust-filled gaze as he pressed their cocks together, grasping them both and beginning the long slow strokes that caused Harry to draw his bottom lip between his teeth once more. The feeling was absolute bliss and Draco was torn between throwing back his head and abandoning himself to the sensations, or maintaining the intense controlled eye contact.

Harry was biting on his lip so hard now that Draco was afraid it would start to bleed, and he ran this thumb across the abused flesh, releasing it from the restraints of Harry's teeth whilst maintaining a steady rhythm on their cocks. He gasped with pleasure when Harry closed his lips around Draco's thumb and began to suck enthusiastically.

That was the moment he lost himself, eyes sliding closed as he picked up the rhythm. As Harry began to thrust into his fist, Draco could feel the heat pooling in his stomach. As Harry began to twitch slightly against him, he knew that any moment the hot stickiness of Harry's release would be splashing over his hand, mingling with his own.

Harry's cock began to pulse against his own and the moment the first drop of hot liquid hit his skin he was gasping as his own climax engulfed him, surprising him with its intensity.

As the spasms of pleasure subsided, he allowed his eyes to drift open, meeting Harry's gaze once more as he raised his hand to his mouth and licked a broad stripe along the back of it through the salty, bitter wetness that had landed there. Harry's eyes widened impossibly as he watched Draco, his mouth falling open slightly, and Draco smirked, offering his fingers to Harry with a quirked eyebrow.

He saw Harry hesitate for a fraction of a second before he opened his mouth, allowing Draco to slide two fingers inside, keeping his eyes fixed on Draco's as he sucked them clean and Draco felt the arousal begin to stir inside him once again. Reluctantly, he gently pulled his fingers free and flopped over onto his back, Harry instantly cuddling into his side.

A blissful smile settled on Draco's face as he slid an arm under Harry's neck and rested his hand on one exposed hipbone; he had always known Harry would be a cuddler and he was in no way averse to indulging this preference.

'That was different,' Harry muttered against his chest and Draco felt his smile broadening.

'Good different?' he asked, already pretty sure of what Harry's answer would be.

'Very,' Harry asserted, lifting his head to look at him and Draco propped himself up on his elbows as Harry leaned forwards to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

'We should stop otherwise you're not going to be getting out of this bed anytime soon,' Draco warned and Harry grinned against his lips before pulling back.

Draco shuffled into an upright position and accepted the mug of now lukewarm coffee from Harry and had a momentary internal debate as he questioned whether the coffee would taste worse tepid or hot after a warming charm. There was really no comparison, he decided, and took a swig of the rapidly cooling coffee as Harry dragged the duvet up to cover them and settled next to him with his mug.

'I've never done anything like that before,' Harry admitted, staring into the depths of his coffee mug.

Draco smiled softly, appreciative of the effort it must have taken for Harry to make this admission. It took a lot of courage for an eighteen-year-old to admit a complete lack of sexual experience; admittedly, Harry could have simply been referring to his experiences with other men but somehow Draco knew this wasn't it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be sure.

'How far have you gone?' Draco asked carefully, trying to load his voice with the reassurance that he wouldn't judge Harry, no matter what his answer.

'Um.' Harry blushed furiously 'Well…'

'It doesn't matter, you know, I only want to know so that I don't move too fast,' Draco offered, deciding at this point he should just lay all his cards on the table; after all, as Blaise's mother had once said: _'If you aren't mature enough to talk about it, you aren't mature enough to do it.'_

Harry looked up at him, relief flooding his features.

'I kissed Cho and Ginny and that's it,' Harry admitted. 'Ginny was getting pretty pushy towards the end but it just felt wrong.'

'Okay.' Draco nodded and threaded his fingers through Harry's as he went back to sipping his coffee.

'What about you?' Harry asked cautiously, and Draco was stumped.

What did he do now—did he admit to the fact that during the fourth and fifth years he had been so desperate for the affection that his father was denying him that he had screwed anything that moved, or did he play down his sexual experience to a couple of well chosen times? He feared that Harry would be disgusted if he told him the truth but he also couldn't stomach lying to him.

'My history is… unfortunate,' Draco admitted carefully; if he was going to admit to this, the last thing he wanted was for Harry to think he was in any way proud the number of partners he had ratcheted up.

Harry's eyes widened and Draco could see the possible scenarios flicking through his mind until a mildly horrified look settled on Harry's face, melting quickly into one of concern.

'No, nothing like that,' Draco quickly reassured and Harry visibly relaxed. 'It's just that I wasn't always all that particular about who I was with in the past.' His mind moved ahead and he realised that this might be taken as slightly insulting.

'They weren't relationships; I've never trusted anyone enough to be in a relationship before,' he clarified and was rewarded with a furious blush and a shy smile as Harry dipped his head at the word that Draco had been so nervous about saying only half an hour before. 'But I had a lot of encounters,' he said, choosing the word carefully so as not to be crass.

'How many?' Harry asked, then, quickly backtracking: 'No, wait, you don't have to answer that, it doesn't matter.'

Draco couldn't suppress a grin at that. Harry was telling the truth; it really didn't matter to him if he'd slept with everyone in the school.

'I have no problem telling you, but I can't be a hundred percent sure,' he admitted. 'I was drunk a lot of the time, which was part of the point I suppose, oblivion and comfort.'

He could see Harry thinking again and he wondered how he'd ever made the assumption that he was stupid. Harry seemed to be always thinking things through, _'just not always before he reacts to them,'_ Draco added in his head, smiling slightly.

'Well it's probably good that at least one of us has some idea what they're doing,' he reasoned leaning back to place his now empty coffee cup on the bedside cabinet. He cupped Draco's face and kissed him again and he could feel Harry pouring reassurance into the kiss as he traced a thumb across the slight stubble on Draco's jaw.

When Harry pulled back, Draco left his eyes closed for a moment, running the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip determined to capture every last taste of Harry's mouth.

'I'm going to go and make breakfast,' Harry said, unnecessarily because they had now returned to the normal routine of the morning.

When Harry the door shut behind him Draco threw out his arms out to the sides, allowing himself to fall back into the pillows. Nothing he had said had been a lie; he really did trust Harry and to him this was the scariest thing of all.

'If I allow it to do so, it will absorb my whole nature, my whole soul,'1 he whispered to the empty room, a smile playing on his lips. As surprising as it was to Draco, he was indeed ready to do so.

* * *

When Draco entered the kitchen he was greeted by the scents of bacon, coffee and toast. He began to think that this was a kitchen that was designed to be appreciated on cold winter mornings, serving as a cocoon against the fog and the gloom and the frost. Harry looked up and gave him a broad grin as he placed plates of food onto the table that already carried mugs and the coffee pot. Draco slid into his seat gratefully, overwhelmed with a feeling of belonging.

The ate in silence for a few moments as Harry attacked his breakfast with zeal, managing to finish his food before Draco had even gotten halfway done. Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's enthusiasm. Harry had the good grace to blush and looked slightly abashed as he reached to retrieve an orange from the fruit bowl and began to peel it carefully.

'I was thinking I would put McGonagall out of her misery today,' Harry said before popping a slice of orange into his mouth and the silence drew out again for a few comfortable moments.

'Y'know I've been thinking about that,' Draco said. 'You made her wait, and that's good, but I'm wondering if you shouldn't put up more of a fight. Otherwise she'll be inclined to run to you whenever she has a problem with some student or other. You should let her know that your assistance comes at a price,' he explained thoughtfully.

Harry frowned as if he were giving the idea serious consideration.

'But I'm already getting something for doing it, you're coming back to school,' he countered, a note of defeat in his voice.

'She doesn't know that, though, as far as she knows I always was going back to school; you need something from her, you have something she wants to use. If it weren't massively inconvenient to you then giving it away for free wouldn't be an issue, but it is inconvenient so you need something in return.'

'But what could I possibly ask for?' Harry asked. 'I have everything I want,' he added with a smile which Draco couldn't help but return.

'What about time away from school then? I know I wouldn't be too averse to coming back here on occasion and escaping the rumour mill.' He saw the dubious look in Harry's eyes and quickly added, 'Plus, you would still be able to take Teddy on occasion. McGonagall can't really argue with that, after all, you have responsibilities; she can't be angry for you refusing to shirk them.'

Harry nodded slowly, clearly turning the idea over in his head.

'What about you, though? I can't claim that I need you to help me take care of Teddy, that would be a lie and I'm a fucking awful liar,' he pointed out.

Draco smirked, there was no question that was the truth; Harry really didn't do lying. He thought this over for a few minutes, taking the time to finish his breakfast and push back in his chair with a blessedly hot cup of coffee.

'Don't tell her anything,' Draco explained. 'Just tell her you want me to come with you, assuming you do,' he added, suddenly feeling a little flash of insecurity.

'Of course I do,' Harry said, rolling his eyes, 'but do you really think she'll just accept it?'

'I know she will,' Draco assured. 'She's desperate to get you as head boy, and you asking for us to be allowed to leave the school on weekends to take care of your godson is nothing in comparison to what you could ask for.'

Harry thought about this for a moment before relaxing into a smile.

'Okay then,' he agreed. Then the smile faded. 'There was one other thing I was thinking we should probably get done today.'

'Oh?' Draco asked, apprehensive about what had put that nervous look onto Harry's face.

'I was thinking we should probably go to Diagon Alley and get our school equipment,' Harry suggested and Draco felt the blood drain from his face and a cold fear settle into the pit of his stomach. After his experiences with the Ministry he had been deliberately avoiding the wizarding world as much as possible.

'I can go on my own if you prefer,' Harry continued, no doubt catching sight of Draco's now rather sickly pallor. 'It's just I wanted to get it done before it got too busy and before Hermione and Ron return from Australia so I don't have to explain to them why I don't want to go with them.'

Draco picked up a little at this; Harry was trying to make it as easy as possible because he actually wanted to go to Diagon Alley with Draco and suddenly Draco felt like he couldn't let him down.

'No, I'll come, have to show my face some time, it's better that the first time is now than when we get on the train in October,' he agreed and Harry's smile returned.

'Right, well, I shall go and deal with McGonagall,' he said rising abruptly and sending the dishes to the sink to begin washing themselves. 'And then we'll head off, hopefully we can get it done before it gets too busy and then maybe we can go out or something tonight, maybe go to the cinema at last,' Harry suggested and Draco beamed; he'd been wanting to go to the movies ever since Harry had told him about them.

Draco trailed behind Harry, determined to give him moral support in their rather Slytherin scheme and sat on the bottom step as Harry dropped to his knees on the large square floor-cushion that he kept specifically for making firecalls. Draco smiled slightly when he realised that his presence wouldn't even be noteworthy to Harry; apart from Harry's morning run, they were rarely out of each other's company these days.

Not that they were always doing things together. More often than not in the afternoons Draco would curl up in the library and read as Harry studied for his upcoming exam and they wouldn't speak a word to each other for hours at a time but there was something rather comforting in just knowing the other was there.

'I'm willing to consider doing it,' Harry was saying into the flames, 'but I'm going to need something from you in return. Draco and I are going to need the option to leave the school on Saturday night and return on Sunday. Unfortunately the war has left me with other responsibilities that can't be easily abandoned, and I refuse to let Teddy think for a moment that I have abandoned him,' Harry said sternly.

Draco grinned; he was laying it on thickly and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that McGonagall would accept the proposal. He realised just how advantageous it was that Harry rarely used the power he could call on. It meant that when he did, everyone was just that little more eager to ingratiate themselves and he allowed himself to consider for a moment just what they could achieve by combining his ambition and Harry's persuasiveness. Not that it would ever happen; Harry was too much the Gryffindor to be encouraged to take advantage of people too often. Still, it was nice to dream.

'Because he's part of the deal,' Harry said tightly, and Draco realised that they had reached the one sticking point of their plan, the part where he was really going to have to pull out the hero status. 'No, Professor, I'm sorry to interrupt but this isn't a negotiation. I want Draco to be able to accompany me. It's not like I've asked for much these last few years, all I want is the chance to continue to care for my Godson and the support of my friend whilst I do so.'

Draco's skin prickled with arousal as Harry asserted his authority and he decided that the other boy would be lucky if Draco didn't just jump on him the second he pulled his head from the flames.

'Thank you, Professor, I'll see you on September 12th for the exam,' Harry finished and pulled his head from the fire, a smug smile already beginning to spread across his face.

Draco pushed himself up from the stairs and held a hand out to Harry to pull him to his feet. Deliberately, he pulled far harder than was necessary and was ready to catch Harry as he toppled forward, sliding a possessive arm around his waist and threading his fingers into black curls.

'I love it when you're all authoritative,' Draco whispered, his voice little more than a low growl as he claimed Harry's mouth and began backing him up against the wall. Draco felt a surge of desire as Harry submitted to him, allowing him to plunder his mouth ruthlessly and it was only their earlier conversation repeating itself in Draco's head that convinced him this was not the way to introduce Harry to a part of their relationship they hadn't even come close to yet.

Using every ounce of Malfoy self control he pulled back, almost losing it once again when he looked at Harry, lips wet and swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes closed and hair even more dishevelled than normal. He looked thoroughly debauched and needy and Draco was forced to take a deep breath, allowing his head to drop to Harry's shoulder as he willed the fire running in his veins to cool.

'We're going to need to stop now or we aren't going to get into Diagon Alley today,' Draco suggested and he felt Harry nod reluctantly before resting his head back against the wall. He didn't release his grip on Draco's shoulders, however, instead he circled them, holding him gently to his chest as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

Finally, Draco extracted himself from Harry's embrace carefully, testing to see that the strength had returned to his knees.

'To the shops?' he suggested as he started onto the stairs to gather the necessaries for their trip and after a moment Harry nodded again and followed him.

The courage Draco had extracted from Harry's embrace quickly dissipated into the warm summer air on their short walk to the Leaky Cauldron. He wasn't nervous enough, however, to fail to acknowledge just how easily he had accepted Harry's tendency to walk everywhere that fell within a three mile radius.

He had called him on it a couple of weeks before and Harry had apologised, pointing out that he really didn't like Apparating or travelling by Floo that much, then he had immediately offered to go by some alternate form of transportation but Draco had quickly dismissed this offer. He was finding that he liked walking places; at least he did when he was with Harry.

There was something nice about the way the walk would encourage Harry to talk about everything and nothing. No subject appeared to be too awkward whilst they were traversing the now familiar streets of the Bloomsbury district. It had been on one of these walks that Draco had built up the courage to ask Harry about his childhood. Harry had made mention of his abusive relatives on a couple of occasions but had never elaborated and Draco had been loathe to push the subject.

But as they headed back from dinner at a little restaurant on the Thames one night Draco had slipped his hand into Harry's and asked him to tell what it was like for him growing up. Draco had been appalled at the stories of cupboards and starvation that had been inflicted upon Harry whist being forced to perform tasks that no child should be expected to perform.

He had heard about emotional and physical abuse that Draco could sadly empathise with and he understood a little better Harry's willingness to forgive Ron when explained how he had pulled the bars from Harry's window and helped him to escape in the summer between his first and second years.

Draco had in turn shared the stories of his own father and he been secretly delighted when Harry's hand had tightened around his protectively. He saw something flash in his eyes and for a moment Draco hadn't been talking to his boyfriend Harry, he had been talking to Harry Potter, defender of Light and defeater of Voldemort. Draco had found it very difficult to suppress the shudder of desire despite the uncomfortable subject.

As they walked now, however, they did so in silence, Draco's apprehension getting the better of him as they got ever closer to their destination and he wished that for once he had requested that they Floo to the Leaky Cauldron; anything would be better than this walk towards impending doom.

He couldn't help but wonder how the wizarding public would respond to seeing him and Harry together; in addition to that, he had no idea how Harry would want him to behave around him. It would probably be a good idea to keep the more intimate side of their relationship out of the public eye at least until the public got a little more used to the idea that he hadn't ended up in Azkaban.

Still, he didn't want to offend Harry, really didn't want him to think he was ashamed of him in any way; he just wasn't sure how to say it. Luckily, Harry seemed to pick up on his concerns in a way that was a little freaky, especially since it wasn't accompanied by the tell tale signs of Legilimency.

'I think it might be better if we don't let people see us as anything more than friends,' Harry suggested with a nervous glance at Draco. 'It's not because, well, it's not for a bad reason,' he stumbled. 'It's just that I don't want people saying you only escaped Azkaban because you're my boyfriend. I'm not saying we need to hide it as such, just keep it low key?' he asked, obviously scared that Draco might explode at this suggestion.

'I think that's a sensible idea,' he admitted, relief washing through him, edged with a little bit of pride at Harry had possessively used the word boyfriend. 'I don't think the wizarding world will be quite ready to give their Saviour over to the clutches of a Death Eater just yet.'

'Draco!' Harry scolded, throwing Draco a sharp look, and he held his hands up in submission.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he said. He knew Harry hated it when he referred to himself as a Death Eater. In Harry's opinion, being a Death Eater wasn't quantified by bearing a mark on one's arm but by following a discipline.

Draco had turned away from that discipline and tried to help bring it down, therefore, Draco was no Death Eater. Draco thought this was a matter of semantics but didn't argue; he liked it when Harry defended him, even if it was only against his own guilty conscience.

As they turned into the street holding the Leaky Cauldron, Harry brushed his shoulder against Draco's in a silent show of support. Draco wanted to thank him but was afraid that if he did he was likely to lose his breakfast. His stomach was churning so much so he opted for offering Harry a half smile that he was certain came out more like a grimace.

Even though he'd known the silence would be a possibility, Draco hadn't been prepared for the sheer awfulness of it as they stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and the noise began to peter out as every head in the place swivelled to look at them.

'So, I was thinking I might have to pick up a new broom today,' Harry said thoughtfully to Draco as he began picking his way through the crowded pub, talking as if he weren't speaking into silence and completely ignoring the goldfish faces that surrounded them. 'I'm still Quidditch Captain after all and there's no way that I can lead the team from the back of a Cleansweep or a Shooting Star.'

'Not if you expect to catch the snitch at any point, no,' Draco responded and was pleased to hear his voice take on the same self-assured drawl it always did when dealing with people he was unsure of. He followed Harry through the pub and was amazed at the way the other boy just seemed to be able to be completely blasé about the staring faces. He supposed this was nothing new to Harry, however.

When they reached the back door and stepped through into the space that held the entrance to the Alley, Harry let out a deep breath and fell back against the door, preventing anyone from following them momentarily.

'That wasn't much fun,' he announced, leaning forward and taking possession of Draco's wrist before pulling him into a tight hug.

'I'm not a bloody teddy bear,' Draco protested, immediately relaxing into Harry's embrace and seeking comfort from it.

'I know,' Harry said lightly, his voice slightly muffled from where he was nuzzling into the side of Draco's neck. 'I just thought we could both use a little reassurance; I know I certainly did.'

Despite his protestations, Draco was most disappointed when Harry released him and took his hand to tug him over the Diagon Alley entrance.

'Ready?' he asked.

Draco nodded, taking a deep breath and squeezing Harry's hand before tossing his head back and allowing his somewhat imperious persona to slip into place.

'Let's get this over with,' he said, hearing the sneer in his voice and noticing for the first time that an indulgent little smile had appeared on Harry's face.

As the brick work pulled away in front of his eyes, Draco found himself unable to breathe and he wondered how it was that Harry had managed to talk him into this in the first place. There was no way their friendship would ever be accepted, let alone their relationship. If he hadn't thought that Harry would have been rather disappointed then he would have probably turned around and left at that very moment.

Stepping forward into the Alley, Draco couldn't decide whether it was better or worse that Harry had suggested that they go when it was bound to be a little quieter. The throng of people was thinner than it might normally be so there were less people to stare at them but at the same time this made their presence that much more conspicuous, and not only that, the fact that they were there together was obvious to everyone.

Whilst this protected Draco from what he was certain would have been some rather aggressive slurs, it also meant the whispering and pointing increased exponentially. Draco jumped slightly when Harry nudged him slightly with his shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile.

'You have every right to be here,' Harry whispered under his breath as he started to lead them in the direction of the Apothecary.

'I know,' said Draco with an assurance that he certainly didn't feel. 'I wish they'd all just mind their own fucking business.'

'Welcome to my world,' said Harry wryly, just a touch of bitterness colouring his tone.

'I can't believe I used to think that you enjoyed this,' Draco muttered as the old couple for whom Harry had stopped to hold the door froze in surprise, completely blocking the doorway. The old woman who had been smiling indulgently at Harry just seconds before was scowling, lip upturned, at Draco.

Draco's stomach performed a slow somersault and he couldn't help edging behind Harry slightly as he waited for the scathing comment that he was certain was about to come.

Instead what he saw was Harry's face change; the polite, ingratiating smile was gone and in its place was a cold look, something dangerous glittering in the green eyes. The look was forbidding enough for the woman to pull her cloak more tightly around her and nudge her husband forward and out of the way.

Draco shot out a hand to grip the wall as his head swam slightly. The warmth of Harry's protectiveness wrapped around him making him feel more secure than he ever had before. Instinctively he reached out with his other hand and allowed it to rest against the small of Harry's back.

Harry continued to watch as the elderly couple joined the stream of shoppers, the woman whispering conspiratorially to her husband. Once they had completely disappeared from sight Harry turned his attention back to Draco and the Malfoy-worthy scowl that had settled on his face dissolved into a look of concern.

'Are you alright?' Harry asked, fingers brushing gently against Draco's wrist.

'Yeah,' Draco said allowing a small smile to tug at his lips as he slid past Harry into the shop, suppressing the urge to tell him that he was actually feeling rather giddy from the combination of the discomfort from the woman's recognition and glare, the rush of adrenaline from the expected altercation and the unusual feeling of someone, of Harry, actually wanting to protect him.

Draco felt Harry follow closely behind him, could feel the concern coming off of him in waves and allowed himself a little smirk.

'Elderly people are always the worst,' Harry confided. 'Everyone stares but they are the ones who are most likely to share their opinions of exactly what's wrong with any given situation.'

'My Grandmother Malfoy was like that.' Draco nodded, wincing slightly as he watched Harry grab up an inferior quality bottle of dragon's blood. 'She loved telling my mother exactly what she was doing wrong in any given situation.'

Without missing a beat, Draco removed the offending bottle from Harry's hand and replaced it with one that wouldn't cause any subsequent potions to have a faint hint of sulphur. Harry raised an amused eyebrow at Draco before gesturing in a sweeping motion with his hand to encourage Draco to continue selecting ingredients for both of them.

'I'll bet your mother loved that,' Harry mused, continuing the conversation as if their silent exchange had not happened.

'Oh, she did; in the beginning she would do everything she could to avoid my grandmother's opinions, but she quickly realised that the old crank would express her displeasure no matter what she did, so she used to do things to upset her deliberately and wait to see how long it took her to notice it. She and I used to put a wager on it.' Draco grinned as he remembered the mischievous light that had sparkled in his mother's eyes as she had rearranged all the portraits into a thoroughly improper order.

That part of her personality had all been for him; no one else had ever gotten to see her so carefree and playful and now no-one would. He liked telling Harry about it, as if sharing the stories about his time with her gave the experience more validity, more weight.

'It sounds like she was a lot of fun when you were growing up,' Harry offered as they paid for their purchases. As Draco held out the bag to Harry, he felt the slight brush of fingertips and found himself grinning again.

'She was.' He nodded as they made their way out of the Apothecary and across to Flourish and Blotts. 'I can't help but wish that my father hadn't been around, I think she would have been even more fun if it had just been the two of us.'

Draco was met with nothing but silence and he looked up at Harry curiously. Harry's expression was a swirl of conflicted emotions as he chewed absently on his lower lip.

'What is it?' Draco asked with a frown and a reassuring nudge.

'Nothing, it's stupid,' Harry responded quickly and Draco rolled his eyes.

'Of course it's something stupid, I would expect nothing more from you,' he teased, 'but that shouldn't stop you or you will never speak again.'

Harry laughed and shook his head, flicking Draco's arm lightly as a show of protest at the slur.

'It's not important,' Harry said and Draco watched as his face cleared and he buried his troubles deep inside.

Draco had a sneaking suspicion that whatever had upset Harry had something to do with the war. Not that he gave himself a lot of credit for figuring this out; nearly everything these days had something to do with the war. Still, now was not the time to press the subject. He decided to let the matter drop for the time being, but if Harry thought he was going to let it go entirely he was sadly mistaken.

Flourish and Blotts seemed to Draco to be uncharacteristically busy. Everywhere he looked there were shoppers perusing the books on the shelves but the frequency that their eyes left the page and settled on Harry and himself confirmed this as a ruse.

Unlike the old woman at the Apothecary, these people weren't interested in Draco's presence really, all they were interested in was getting to shake hands with the golden boy, and as they began their search for the school books Harry's fans became more and more bold in their observations until the first one, a plump middle aged woman, got up the courage to address him.

A groan issued from Harry and Draco watched as he eyed the door, trying to figure out how easy it would be to escape, and his shoulders drooped with resignation when he realised that there was no way out of this without being overtly rude.

'I'm going to have to do something about them,' Harry said at last. 'We don't want them following us for the rest of the day.'

'No, we don't,' Draco agreed and eyed the crowd nervously. Harry was right, he was going to have to do something to satisfy them but Draco was rather nervous about the inevitable questions that would come if he were stood next to Harry at the time.

'Look, if you don't mind, I still have my Defence book to get, I was thinking I could slip off and get that whilst you deal with your fans?' Draco suggested hoping that Harry wouldn't feel like he was being abandoned.

'Sure thing,' Harry smiled warmly, 'I shall come and find you when I'm done,' he added resignedly. With that he turned and stalked towards the waiting crowd with his trademark 'get me the hell out of here' smile.

The corner of the bookshop which housed the Defence books was dark and chilly. As he stepped between the shelves, Draco shuddered as he took in the scent of parchment and ink and leather bindings which reminded him of his father's study.

'You know I can't say that I'm not surprised to see you here, especially with Potter,' said a quiet voice from a corner behind him and Draco span on the spot, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against his ribcage.

A tall, shy looking boy with dirty blond hair and a cautious frown stepped from one of the dark corners.

'Theo,' Draco breathed heavily with relief. 'You scared me half to death.'

'You should be more careful, Draco, a lot of people would just have hexed you straight off,' Theo suggested and Draco tensed slightly again. There was nothing malicious in Theo's tone but still, a warning like that could easily be a mild threat.

'Yes, I should,' Draco responded carefully. 'I'm glad it was you.' He offered Theo a small smile.

Theo looked surprised, not that Draco could blame him, he wasn't sure if he'd smiled in anything but spite the entire time he'd been in school.

'So, what are you doing here? No offence, but I'm surprised you're even able to show your face in public let alone willing to.'

'Yes, well,' Draco began, ready to throw some spiteful and defensive comment back before thinking better of it. He didn't have many potential friends left; insulting the first one he came across was probably not the best idea. 'I was lucky,' he admitted, regarding his shoes for a moment. 'Someone took the time to help me.'

'Potter?' Theo asked, though it was more of a disbelieving statement than a question.

'Yeah,' Draco nodded with a small smile on his face.

'And now you are out shopping for school books with him?' Theo asked, his disbelief rising.

'I know, strange isn't it? Turns out we had more in common than we thought. What?' Draco asked when he noticed the strange look that Theo was giving him.

'I'm trying to decide if you are under the Imperius curse or if you are just someone Polyjuiced to look like Draco Malfoy,' Theo mused, frowning again.

'I don't blame you for thinking that, but it really is me, Theo, I promise,' Draco offered, chuckling slightly. He couldn't blame his old housemate for thinking it; there were occasionally days where he would wake up to Harry's warm kisses and fresh coffee and wonder just how he had gotten himself so far from the starting point.

'Are you going back?' Draco asked, suddenly remembering that this boy in front of him was one of the very few Slytherins in his year who would even get the chance to return to Hogwarts.

'Yeah, I am. I don't think it will be much fun though. I get the feeling that green will be a decidedly unpopular colour next year.'

'When has it ever been popular?' Draco asked darkly.

'That's true enough,' Theo agreed, still looking at Draco like he was some sort of weird creature. Draco quickly began allowing his eyes to rake across the shelves, looking for the book he was seeking.

'Well, it was nice to run into you, Theo,' Draco said, stalking over to extract the book from the shelf and hugging it close to his chest.

'Yeah, you too,' Theo said, and Draco watched as he wrestled with himself. 'I'll see you on the train, Draco,' he finished and Draco allowed the corners of his mouth to lift in a tiny satisfied smile.

* * *

It was after dinner, when he was comfortably full of shepherd's pie and was sprawled on the sofa with Harry, that Draco remembered his meeting with Theo in the bookstore and decided to mention it to Harry.

'Oh,' Harry asked, caution evident in his voice, clearly unsure if this was going to be a good story or a bad one and Draco felt him shift to try to catch his eye.

'Yeah, it was a little odd at first but I think it's going to be okay and it will be nice to have one other person in the school who isn't you and doesn't hate my guts.'

'You thought there was a chance he might?' Harry sounded slightly surprised. 'I thought you Slytherins were as thick as thieves.'

'Typical Gryffindor,' Draco said contemptuously but unable to muster any really offence at the assumption.

'I suppose it may have looked that way to the exceptionally inobservant,' he teased and was rewarded with a tickling finger at his waist which caused him to squirm. 'In reality…' he began, voice louder than normal as he waited for Harry to cease his torture and allow him to explain.

'There were more who didn't support Voldemort than those who did, but those who did had more support. Those who didn't, rightly, blamed us for the fact that the rest of the school looked down on us, especially in the later years.' Draco's eyes fell closed as the reality of the situation hit him. Here he was talking casually to Harry 'bloody' Potter about how he had supported Voldemort whilst he was at school.

Who the hell was he kidding? There was no way that this was ever going to work out. The day's animosity had just been a stark reminder of the fact that no matter how much they tried to cocoon themselves from the rest of the world, those opinions still existed and there was no way that they could avoid them forever.

Sooner or later Harry would realise that being with Draco was just way too much hard work, that he didn't want to be constantly defending his honour, that perhaps everyone else was right. Reluctantly, he began to pull himself from the warmth of Harry's side, only to find arms tightening around his waist and holding him in place.

'Oh, no you don't,' Harry said matter-of-factly, tugging Draco back against his chest again.

'Please, Harry,' Draco asked, hating the whining tone of his voice but at a loss to do anything to combat it. 'Theo has every right to hate me for the things I did and that is nothing compared to the things I did to you. This isn't going to work.'

He saw Harry open his mouth to speak and cut across him again.

'I know what you're going to say, you're going to say that none of it matters, but it does matter. I did those things, you can't just forgive... mphff.' A warm hand covered his mouth, shutting off his protests.

'If you will please just let me speak?' Harry said, not unkindly but with a definite touch of frustration in his voice.

'At no point was I going to say that it doesn't matter, of course it matters. These things shape us and make us into who we are. But we can't keep judging ourselves by the mistakes of our pasts. At some point we have to say that yes I did those things but I've learned from my mistakes and moved on.'

'You aren't the same person you were then,' Harry reassured relaxing his grip on Draco slightly, 'and the way we can tell is that since May you've manage to restrict yourself to calling me stupid about five times a day.'

Draco felt the tightness in his stomach dissolve as Harry removed his hand from Draco's mouth and replaced it with a tender kiss which Draco returned eagerly.

'What was it that bothered you?' Draco asked, suddenly remembering Harry's earlier sullenness and pulling back from the kiss.

'When?' Harry asked, looking slightly dazed at the loss of Draco's mouth and the sudden change of topic.

'When we were shopping earlier. I mentioned wishing that my father weren't around and you went all quiet and stiff.'

'Oh, that,' Harry said, looking away, embarrassed. 'It was nothing.'

'Oh well, that's hardly fair,' Draco said poutily as he pushed himself into a sitting position and straddled Harry's hips. He had a funny feeling that Harry was going to do his best to avoid this line of questioning and physical restraint may be the only option.

'I told you what upset me, why won't you tell me what upset you? Do you not trust me or something?' he asked, feigning injury. He knew it was a mean thing to do but he also knew that the last thing Harry would want was for him to think that there was a lack of trust. Gryffindors were so easy to manipulate.

'It's just... I had several chances to do it right, each one would have saved you from the hell you must have endured and would have saved several other people's lives and I failed twice before I finally managed it. You suffered because of my incompetence.'

'What?' Draco asked, his tone incredulous. 'My gods, how can you do that? You spend five minutes reassuring me that I need to forgive myself but you are still holding yourself accountable for everyone who died in the stupid war. Tell me, Harry, did you kill them? Did you encourage anyone to kill them in your name?

'No, but…' Harry began, shaking his head.

Now it was Draco's turn to interrupt.

'You are not responsible for the actions of a mad man, you say you should have defeated him sooner but even you can't really believe that. No one had been able to defeat him, Harry. Dumbledore couldn't defeat him, yet you, an unqualified wizard, did.' Draco paused for a moment, taking in Harry's raised eyebrows and shocked expression as he tried to will his breathing to slow.

'Those deaths are on the consciences of those who killed them or who ordered them killed. Not a one of them is on you, Harry. You have to believe that or you are going to live with those ghosts forever. Or at least that was what my mother told me. When I returned to the Manor after Dumbledore's…' He couldn't bring himself to say the word but the gentle pressure of Harry's hand on his reassured him.

'I felt so guilty, I hadn't wanted him to die, I wanted to take his help, but I put him in a position where his death was inevitable.'

'But you didn't, Dumbledore did. He killed himself, you aren't responsible, he planned it that way,' Harry murmured, holding Draco close.

'Fuck, will you just listen to yourself?' Draco growled with exasperation. 'This is what I'm trying to tell you. I had more of a hand in Dumbledore's death than you had in anyone but Voldemort's. Yet here you are trying to convince me that you are responsible for the death of all the people killed at Voldemort's hand. If you are culpable then I must be culpable. But if you truly believe that Dumbledore's death wasn't my responsibility then you are going to have to relinquish your own guilt, too,' Draco reasoned, wondering momentarily if hot-headed Gryffindors were immune to logic.

'You're right,' Harry said, burrowing his face into Draco's neck and allowing Draco to release the rather insistent smirk that tugged at his mouth at hearing those words.

'I know you're right. I know that logically it makes no sense. I can't promise not to think about it any more, but I promise to try and let it go, deal?' Harry asked, peering up at Draco through long thick lashes.

'Deal,' Draco affirmed, pressing his lips to Harry's once more.

1 Taken from Oscar Wilde 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' though I played with the tense ever so slightly as one is likely to do when applying a literary quote to their own life.


	12. Chapter 11 Compare and Contrast

Disclaimer: I don't own these people.

A/N: From here on out I need to mention that not only is saras_girl editing she is also offering the occasional line which is what happens when has such a wonderfully quotable girlfriend.

Chapter 11

Compare and Contrast

_I know the reason you talked behind my back,_

_I used to be among the crowd your in with_

_You say I've let you down, you know it's not like that;_

_If you're so hurt, why don't you just show it?_

_I wish for just one time, you could stand inside my shoes_

_And for just one moment I could be you._

_Positively 4__th__ Street – Bob Dylan_

'_How did I let McGonagall talk me into this?' _Harry thought as he flipped to the section on Inferi and began trying to list all the pertinent information about dealing with them. He should have just said no, said that he wasn't ready to do his exam yet, asked if there wasn't someone else who might be able to tutor him independently in the evenings so that he could have sat his exam at the same time as everyone else.

If he had just had the balls to say that at the time then maybe he could be sitting on the roof terrace with Draco, drinking the cherry cola that Draco was now addicted to and enjoying the last hurrah of the summer rather than holed up in this stuffy library poring over Defence books.

'So, what do you think about?' Draco asked, dragging Harry's concentration from his study. He noticed that despite only learning the charm the day before, Draco had already managed to gain enough control over his silvery fox Patronus to make it wind innocently around Harry's feet in a play for attention.

'Why do you want to know?' Harry snapped and immediately regretted the fact that once again his tongue was refusing to wait for him to think before leaping into action. For a moment Draco looked deflated; his wand dropped to his side and the bright fox at Harry's feet shimmered and faded.

The hurt look didn't remain long, however; a fraction of a second and a cold hardness replaced it and Harry was facing his arch enemy once more. A shiver rippled down his spine at how quickly Draco had turned into Malfoy.

Without another word Draco turned on his heel and stalked from the study. Harry sighed and pushed back his chair. There really was no excuse for snapping at Draco—yes, he was being annoying and with the exam only two days away Harry felt like he was never going to remember everything he needed, but still… there were nicer ways he could have asked Draco to be quiet and let him study.

There were ways he could have done it that wouldn't have sent Draco off in a huff, and if he'd applied some thought to it he was certain that there were even methods he could have used that would have seen Draco bringing him the occasional cup of tea.

Unfortunately the method he had chosen had simply ensured that he wouldn't be getting any work at all done for the next couple of hours as he spent some time grovelling and making it up Draco for his outburst.

It took him a good couple of minutes to track Draco down. This was their first fight of any kind and he had no idea where he might retreat to. After all, however they dressed it up this was his house and Harry was still a little nervous that Draco simply felt like a guest here.

When he found Draco in their bedroom his nervousness about that subject at least dropped off a little. Draco was sitting on the padded window seat, head resting on his drawn up knees as he looked out over the square. Harry headed into the room and lowered himself so he was sitting, cross legged, opposite Draco, leaning against the window frame. Still Draco refused to look at him and rather than simply staring at his boyfriend for any sign that he was forgiven Harry looked out of the window too.

'I'm so sorry, Draco, I shouldn't have snapped at you, that wasn't fair,' he apologised. Seeing Draco glance sideways at him he decided to continue. 'I'm just really stressed out with this exam coming up. There's loads of stuff that's on the curriculum that I have no idea about. I'm just getting so frustrated, this guy thinks I know too much to be taught but the truth is I really don't know that much, I'm just really good at improvising,' he said, surprising himself with the intensity of the rant.

Cool fingers sought his, wrapping themselves around his hand in reassurance.

'Stupid Gryffindor,' Draco muttered. 'I'm sorry, too,' he offered and Harry's sceptically raised eyebrow was rewarded with a vicious pinch.

'I know you're stressed, I guess I can just be a bit of a brat sometimes,' he shrugged as he pulled Harry's hand close and turned so he could lean back against his chest.

'That's not the issue, Draco. It wouldn't matter if you were the brattiest person in the world, I still shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sure if I'd just asked nicely you would have left me alone to work.'

'Well yes,' Draco said thoughtfully as he extended Harry's fingers with his own and began the thorough stroking of his hand that Harry had come to realise was something of a secret pleasure for him.

'And you know if you'd asked, I might have even helped you again. I didn't ask you to teach me the Patronus, remember; you needed to make sure that your written instructions were up to scratch. I'm more than willing to help.'

'I know, Draco, I really am sorry,' Harry offered, dropping a light kiss to Draco's hair and deeply inhaling the cool, fresh, minty smell that was just 'Draco' and allowing it to soothe him slightly.

'You know,' Draco began, and Harry recognised the tone that informed him that Draco was about to say something that he thought might scandalise Harry. 'I think one of the things I'd be best at helping with is relieving some of that stress,' he suggested, bringing Harry's hand to his mouth and laying a gentle kiss against each fingertip.

'Oh?' Harry asked playfully. 'And how would you have managed that?'

Draco slid from the window seat and knelt in front of Harry, with a bright, cheeky grin, as he brought up a hand to cup Harry's face.

'Well, I think to start with I would probably kiss you until you forgot all about curses and counter-curses,' he suggested and Harry's eyes closed as Draco's soft thumb traced his mouth before being replaced by the first gentle brush of lips. Quickly, Draco became more assertive, nipping and sucking at Harry's lower lip as his darting tongue mapped out Harry's mouth.

Not used to being passive, Harry tried to kiss back but received a tug to the hair at the back of his neck and he realised that right now the only thing Draco wanted from him was his compliance. Slowly, he surrendered himself to the taste of mint and coffee on Draco's tongue and the feel of soft insistent lips on his own, causing the world to drop away.

When Draco pulled back, all Harry could do was pant; his head spun with the sensation. His hand gripped at the cushion beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. From beyond the darkness of his closed eyes, Draco's voice came again, less sure this time though, more breathless and needy.

'Then I think I would take you to bed,' he suggested, and Harry felt him stand before he himself was tugged to his feet. He watched as Draco took his hand and pulled him seductively towards the bed.

A sudden tug pulled Harry off balance and sent him sprawling across the bed. Before he was fully able to appreciate his position, Draco had flipped him over and had straddled his hips, dipping his head to attack Harry's mouth once more. Time stretched out and Harry lost himself to sensation; the only place he existed was in the slide of Draco's tongue against his own and in the firm touch of his exploring hands as they roamed over his torso.

When the kiss finally ended, Harry felt its loss keenly but before he was able to gather himself enough to register a complaint, the mouth was back again, now against his throat and sinking lower, leaving a damp, rapidly cooling trail across his chest as Draco flicked out his tongue to tease a nipple and his fingers began to dexterously remove Harry's jeans and underwear.

As Draco's skilled fingers closed around his achingly hard cock, Harry couldn't stop himself from letting out a long slow groan. Draco's mouth continued to travel south, trailing kisses and licks across Harry's stomach and pausing to dip his tongue into his navel, making Harry mewl with pleasure.

At the first light brush of Draco's lips against the head of his cock, Harry gasped and his eyes flew open as he looked down at Draco, who simply flashed him a wicked grin before swiping his tongue across the tip. Harry exhaled sharply, unable to tear his eyes away as Draco seemed to delight in teasing him, circling the head of Harry's cock a couple of times before pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently.

Harry's arms gave way and he fell back against the pillows; he'd never felt anything this good before and as Draco began to slide more of his erection into his mouth, Harry couldn't help but thrust up into the delicious, wet, warmth. Harry felt Draco's hands rest firmly on his hips, thumbs stroking gently over the sensitive skin there as he restricted Harry's thrusts.

Wrapping his fingers into Draco's hair, he felt himself begin to unravel as Draco began to incorporate the lightest scrape of teeth into his ministrations.

'Draco, I'm gonna…I'm gonna,' Harry heard a strangely disembodied voice stutter and groan as the buzz of something electric began to gather at the base of his spine.

Rather than drawing back as Harry had expected, Draco increased his grip on Harry's hips, holding them firmly as he slid down the last couple of inches until Harry felt himself brush against the back of Draco's throat. It all became too much his brain ceased to function as pleasure tore through him, his vision whited out and he emptied himself into Draco's mouth. Draco continued to suck at him, dragging out the sensations for an impossible amount of time as tremors kept him gasping, before he finally released Harry and he sat back on his heels.

'Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?' Draco drawled, slightly breathless himself and all of a sudden Harry had the overwhelming urge to find out. With surprising speed he shot out a hand to grip the front of Draco's sweater and pulled him so he ended up sprawled on top of Harry. Crashing their lips together, Harry took advantage of Draco's surprise to seek out the salty taste of himself on Draco's tongue.

This time it was Draco's turn to groan and Harry smirked with every intention of returning the favour, wanting to hear that amazing sound a few more times. Unfortunately the moment's exertion appeared all he was able to manage and after a moment Draco was easily able to pull himself from Harry's grip as his strength deserted him and his mind became a little fuzzy around the edges.

Draco smiled warmly at him as he brushed hair from Harry's forehead and Harry felt himself drifting into sleep, Draco's comforting warmth wrapped around him.

When Harry awoke it took him a couple of moments to understand exactly what was going on. A dim light filled the bedroom as the sun began its descent below the horizon and he lay there for a moment breathing the comforting scent of Draco's minty shampoo, mingling with fabric softener and his own cinnamon-y cologne. The soft sighing issuing from Draco's sleeping form next to him eventually prompted him to move and he rolled on to his side.

He did this every morning; after he woke and before he went for his run he would take a few moments just to watch Draco sleeping. Draco was beautiful when he was asleep. Actually, Draco was beautiful all the time but there was something about him when he was sleeping peacefully next to Harry that just took his breath away.

In his waking hours, Draco was all refinement and knowing looks with weariness in his eyes that bore testament to the suffering he had endured during the war. Whilst he slept, however, this weariness dropped away. Messy blond hair and lightly flushed cheeks combined with slightly parted lips to give an incongruous demeanour of innocence.

Harry dipped his head to place a gentle kiss against Draco's lips. Draco issued a soft contented sigh and turned so he was sprawled on his back, dislodging the covers as he went and revealing to Harry that he had taken the time to remove his clothes before he had curled up to nap. Sliding the quilt down a little further, Harry began to stroke his fingers softly across Draco's jaw, and down his neck. Draco murmured encouragingly in his sleep but did not wake up.

Feeling emboldened by Draco's encouraging noises, he allowed his fingers to trail lower across smooth pale skin which was marred only by a thin pink scar that traced over his lightly defined pectorals and firm stomach.

Lowering his head he flicked out his tongue to tease rapidly hardening nipples as his fingers continued to drift lower until they caught on the waist-band of Draco's boxers. Harry only hesitated with indecision for a moment before dipping his fingers below the elastic to bury them in blond curls.

Apprehensively, he allowed his mouth to follow the path his exploring fingers had taken, carefully tugging off Draco's underwear when his lips brushed against the fabric barrier.

Draco's cock lay hard against his firm stomach. For a moment, Harry just looked at it, before gently brushing his fingers down its length, appreciating the feel of impossibly soft skin. He had never done anything like this before; what if he hated it? What if he wasn't any good at it? What if he ended up hurting Draco?

Draco's cock was already slightly slick and Harry's curiosity joined forces with his desire to please Draco and overcame his concerns. He swiped an inquisitive tongue across the head of Draco's cock and was rewarded by a low, soft moan from the sleeping man.

Encouraged by Draco's obvious enjoyment and the not unpleasant salty taste that was lingering on his tongue, Harry lowered his head again, parting his lips to slide the head of Draco's cock into his mouth and sucking gently. The sound that issued from Draco's mouth at this was nothing short of exquisite.

The grey eyes opened slightly and met Harry's, a look of surprise already flooding Draco's features. Satisfaction swelled in Harry's chest at the bemused smile on Draco's face and he sunk lower, taking more of Draco into his mouth, losing himself in the weighted slide of Draco's cock against his tongue.

Fingers tangled in his hair and Draco began to meet his downward strokes with a slight lift of his hips. As he began to unravel, the moans from Draco became more and more wanton and Harry applied himself to his task with increased enthusiasm as Draco's fingers wove tightly in his hair, enough to hurt a little.

When Draco whispered Harry's name in a voice that was low and needy, Harry wondered if he might come again on the spot as a pleasant shiver raced its way up his spine. Draco's fingers twisted almost painfully in his hair as he groaned again.

'So close…'

Harry pulled back a little, running his tongue languidly around the head and dipping into the slit at the top, as he relished the experience of having Draco Malfoy writhing and vulnerable before him as much as he enjoyed the act itself.

Taking Draco as far into his mouth, as he could he gave one final lick before his mouth was flooded with salty bitterness and Draco was arching up into him frantically as Harry continued until Draco began to relax again.

Rocking back on his heels, Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face as he looked down on a thoroughly debauched Draco. A light sheen of sweat clung to his flushed skin and a marked forearm was thrown across his eyes as he struggled to recover himself.

'Well, that was unexpected,' Draco said, a smirk settling on his lips.

'I could have said the same thing,' Harry murmured, falling on to the pillows next to Draco and gently tugging his arm down to reveal smouldering silver eyes.

'I'm sure you could have if you hadn't just passed out,' Draco grinned, teasing.

In response Harry ran his fingers over Draco's ribs, causing him to yelp and flail about helplessly for a moment before he was able to catch and restrain Harry's hands. The glare he shot Harry managed to have totally the reverse effect and Harry felt warmth flooding his chest as he smiled indulgently at Draco and bent to capture his mouth in a kiss.

'I really am sorry, you know,' Harry offered, when he had sunk back into the pillows, arms fastened around Draco's waist. 'For earlier,' Harry clarified when he took in Draco's confused expression.

Draco groaned, bringing up his hands to cover his face.

'You really can stop apologising now, you know, you apologised I accepted it and now we move on, that's how this works. If you keep apologising for every little thing then we will never have time for other, more amusing, things,' Draco said with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

'_That's_ how it works, is it?' Harry asked, covering how moved he was by Draco's reassurance with a joke.

'Yes it is, and you would do well to remember it,' Draco asserted, lazily resting his head possessively against Harry's chest. 'So, your exam's in three days, are you going to let me help you now?'

'I think I'd be afraid not to,' Harry smiled, placing a kiss on top of the fine blond hair whilst Draco stroked his fingers.

'In which case, you should go back to your books and I will go and make us a cup of tea before I come and test you.'

* * *

Harry broke free of the small stuffy exam room and made his way quickly towards the elevator, eager to escape into the warm September afternoon. He only realised now that it was over that he had completely wasted the last week. Well, not completely; the working relationship he had developed with Draco had been worth spending all that time studying on its own but he certainly hadn't needed it for the exam; he couldn't help but wonder if anyone ever failed it.

The staring and pointing had been minimal on his way into the exam that morning but now, with everyone knowing he was in the building, the crowds of Ministry administrators having 'meetings' in the lobby had increased exponentially.

It turned out that not getting the Daily Prophet hadn't prevented the arses that ran it from printing shite about him; apparently, his and Draco's little visit to Diagon Alley had provided the vultures with enough to speculate about for a whole week full of articles.

When he had arrived in the exam room, looking harassed and confused, Professor McGonagall had informed him of the articles and had invited him to use the Floo point in the Minister's office to return to Hogwarts to save him from having to brave the lobby again and he had been sorely tempted. That would have just led to more problems, however.

Hermione had owled him yesterday to inform him she was back in the country and to ask him if she could come over for coffee and a catch-up. For the first time, he had been glad of the exam and the opportunity it afforded him to legitimately meet Hermione out of the house.

He remembered the way that Draco had rolled his eyes as he had explained for what was probably the twentieth time that it wasn't because he was ashamed of him. It turned out that Draco was well aware of the fact that Harry wasn't ashamed of him, that he understood that introducing Hermione to the concept of 'them' gently was the only way to go.

Of course this had been before he realised that his sudden 'friendship' with Draco Malfoy was the current water cooler topic of choice and that Hermione would have to be blind, deaf and as stupid as Zacharias Smith to not be aware of the fact that there was something happening between him and Draco.

Still, it was better that he dealt with it in public than at home. At least in public Hermione would exercise some restraint when she told him how stupid he was being and not scream or shout. He also didn't want to expose Draco to a hysterical Hermione. Harry was used to her hissy fits and knew that once she understood something she would immediately calm down but there was no way that Draco would accept the screaming harpy that Hermione could become calmly and passively.

Not that she had done that in a long time, of course, and Harry really hoped that he was doing his friend a huge disservice, but where Draco's state of mind was concerned he was going to adopt a better safe than sorry principle. This was all too new and too good to risk.

Ignoring the Floo connections and Apparition points, Harry made his way to the Ministry's pedestrian entrance, knowing that he was going to need the chance to walk off some of his Prophet-induced irritation before he was forced to deal with Hermione quizzing him about the exam and his relationship with Draco and whatever new drama Ron had decided to create.

She hadn't mentioned Ron at all in the note, no mention of whether he had started to get over the Ginny, thing no mention of how he had reacted to the Draco thing. Not that she had mentioned that at all and now that he thought about it, it was obvious that she knew about it.

Hermione had never been one to stand on ceremony; she would show up at any time and just hope you were there. At school it had taken till the sixth year, and her walking in on Ron and Lavender for the third time before she had even begun to knock on doors. The fact that she was owling to see when it was convenient for Harry to meet meant that she was concerned about what she might find if she just turned up at the house.

Out on the street, Harry took a moment to appreciate the way the early afternoon sun warmed skin that had been chilled by the over-effective air conditioning system within the Ministry. As he made his way towards the small café that he and Hermione had arranged to meet at, he felt his anxiety about the meeting increase. It had been only three months since he had seen Hermione last but in that time so much had changed that he wondered if she would even recognise him.

The scent of good coffee flowed out onto the street as Harry leant against a familiar phone box to await his friend's arrival. As his apprehension increased he found himself wishing that Draco was there with him. Not that Draco's presence would make the situation any easier, he knew that, realistically. Draco's presence was more likely to exacerbate than diffuse the situation.

Still, that didn't stop him from longing for the steady, acerbic presence. He wondered what Draco was doing now. Probably curled on the sofa, nose buried in a book and that hugely oversized mug balancing precariously on his knee whilst music blared from the speakers.

He often wondered how it was that Draco managed to balance that mug on his knee like that without empting the contents onto his groin; he figured that it must have some crafty charm work on it in some way and reminded himself to ask Draco about it when he got home.

If Harry had been there he would have curled silently into Draco's side and an arm would have come out to silently encircle his shoulders and their contact becomes all absent minded touches and careless kisses as they simply enjoy each others presence.

Instead he was standing on the edge of impending doom as clouds started to drift across the warm autumn sun and the temperature dropped significantly and drew a shiver from Harry. The street, which minutes before had seemed bustling and cheerful, was now gloomy and gray and Harry couldn't help but wonder if his own apprehension might be the cause of the portentous change in the weather.

It was his friend's gait that he recognised first, before he could even really discern their silhouettes. The long, loping, haphazard stride was trademark Ron and for a few seconds hope swelled in Harry's heart—maybe he'd come round, maybe he wanted to make amends.

These hopes were quickly dashed however; his posture was hunched and his hands were shoved deeply in his pockets as Hermione almost jogged along at his side, trying to keep up with him and shooting him apprehensive glances. Still, Harry was determined to try, to be the bigger man and he hitched a smile on to his face.

He opened his mouth to greet him but didn't get the chance. Ron kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek, muttered a quick 'see you later' and kept on walking straight past Harry, determinedly not looking at him. Part of Harry wanted to force Ron to acknowledge him, to have it out right there in the middle of the street, but by the time he had recovered from the shock of such juvenile behaviour, Ron was turning the corner at the end of the street.

He turned back to Hermione, a questioning look on his face, but she just looked at him sympathetically. He sighed and struggled to put it behind him; at least he still had Hermione and he stepped forward to wrap her in a warm hug.

'It's good to see you, 'Mione, you look amazing,' he offered, pulling back but keeping his hands possessively on her shoulders. She did, too. The Australian sun had done her a lot of good. The tiredness that had hung around her almost constantly for the last year was gone. Her skin was an olive brown colour and her brown ringlets were shot through with gold where the sun had bleached them.

'I missed you,' he asserted honestly.

'Did you indeed?' she asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. 'I was under the impression that you had a rather interesting time in my absence,' she suggested and Harry had to work hard to suppress a groan. There went the last possibility that she might not be aware of his shopping trip with Draco.

'Why don't you tell me about Australia first,' he suggested. 'And then I shall answer any questions you might have about any shopping trips I may or may not have been on with Draco Malfoy.'

Hermione's eyes brightened and widened at the prospect of gossip. Not that she really was a gossip; Harry knew that he could tell her anything and it would never find its way to another person's ears unless he was planning on putting himself in unnecessary danger, but she did like to know whatever the latest gossip was. He'd always suspected it helped her to maintain her slightly supercilious expression.

'Deal,' she said with a grin as she opened the door to the coffee shop, releasing a wave of warm coffee-scented air that caused Harry to close his eyes and inhale deeply as images of warm grey eyes peering over the edge of a coffee cup flooded his mind, along with the ghostly sensation of warm fingers closing around his hand as a joke was told in a poor attempt to cover their desire to touch one another.

Hermione looked back at him curiously as he stood in the door way of the coffee shop inhaling deeply and he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at his foolish behaviour. He would complain that he was behaving like a love sick teenager but the truth of the matter was that he was indeed a love sick teenager. A small knowing smile played on Hermione's lips as she led the way to the counter and ordered her tea.

'So, how was the exam?' Hermione asked and Harry grasped on her momentary distraction to add two pieces of cake to their order and pick up the bill, earning himself a half hearted scowl from Hermione.

'Went fine, I probably spent a lot more time revising for it than was strictly necessary, because I breezed through it,' Harry said confidently, pleased that Hermione was going to allow the subject of Draco to drop, for now at least.

'I still don't understand why you had to take your exam this year,' Hermione added slightly snippily and Harry paused for a moment, trying to understand whether it was her lack of understanding or the fact that he was going to have a NEWT before her that was making her irritable.

'Because the new DADA professor has refused to teach me, it's that simple. I wish he'd been able to get over himself and teach me but apparently that role is now even harder to fill than it used to be.'

'Do you know who it is?' Hermione asked as she led them to a small table with two large squashy armchairs in the window.

'No idea,' Harry responded as he dragged about his own armchair until his back was to the wall and he had a good view of the café. 'But I hope you give whoever it is a really hard time for me next year,' he added, grinning.

'I'm sure that can be arranged,' Hermione agreed with a mischievous smile as Harry finally settled into his chair.

'So, how was Australia? Did it go okay with your parents?' Harry asked, sipping at the frothy foam on his cinnamon latte and knowing that Draco would scowl at him if he saw him drinking this.

Hermione's face grew serious for a moment and Harry knew that whatever had occurred in Australia hadn't been easy.

'Well, I found them and removed the memory charm, but they weren't very happy when they realised what had happened. They were furious at me for having put myself in danger and for not talking to them, that is when I got them to believe me about what we had done last year. I had to take them to the Ministry's consulate before they would believe me.'

'But they forgave you, right?' Harry asked, wincing in sympathy. He needed to know that her relationship hadn't been irrevocably damaged because she had chosen to help him.

'Eventually, Mum decided to see the bright side, she's wanted to move to Australia for years but hasn't been able to arrange it, but they are there now and so they intend to stay.'

'Well, that'll make for nice holidays,' Harry said blandly, not knowing what to say and already dreading where this conversation was going to go next.

'Hmmm,' Hermione answered, apparently agreeing that there were many more important things to talk about but also at a loss for how to start the required conversation.

Silence reigned for a few minutes and they sipped their drinks, deliberately ignoring the elephant that had settled in the corner. Finally realising that simply waiting for the awkward moment to pass wasn't an option, Harry braved one of the subjects he'd been dreading.

'So, what's happening at the Burrow? I assume Ron is still pissed at me?' he asked, glancing up at Hermione through his fringe and trying to squash down the spark of hope that Hermione might say anything other than 'Yes, he is.'

'I don't know what to tell you, Harry, things aren't good over there at the moment.' She sighed again and then looked up at Harry sharply. 'Not that that is your fault in any way, you acted as responsibly as anyone could ask, but Ginny's still sulking, Molly's disappointed and we daren't mention your name in front of Ron.'

'What's he been saying about me?' Harry asked resignedly. Ron had one of the worst tempers of anyone he knew, even worse than Ginny because whilst Ginny would get mad and rage, Ron would just would sulk and bad mouth you to anyone who would listen.

'What makes you think he's been talking about you?' Hermione attempted innocently.

'C'mon ,'Mione, as much as he seems determined to ignore the fact at the moment, he's been my best mate for years. I've seen what he does when he doesn't like someone, he spits bile about them to anyone who sits still long enough to listen,' Harry shot irritably, unable to stop himself from thinking about just how quickly Ron had worked to turn him against Draco in the first year. Not that he blamed him for that really; Harry had been willing to be led in that direction but Ron had certainly speeded the process.

'I don't think it really matters what he's been saying, do you?' she asked wearily. 'He's saying the same stuff he always says when you and he have a row, how you think you're too good for him and that you always think of him as a side kick,' she admitted and Harry sighed. She was right of course, what Ron was saying about him was irrelevant; it was the sentiment behind it that was upsetting to Harry.

It didn't seem to matter to him how many times he saw just how much Harry hated his fame; the moment things weren't perfect between the two of them he was jealous. Jealous of the attention Harry got, jealous of Harry's money and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Harry would have given everything he had to have anonymity and his family, to have never been special in the first place.

'I take it he wouldn't listen to reason, then?' Harry asked remembering Hermione's promise to try to bring him round. Hermione shook her head sadly.

'I really don't know what's going on with him at the moment, I don't know whether its Fred's death or something else but he's just angry all the time and he seems to be focusing most of his wrath on you,' Hermione said sadly. 'I do know it isn't about you, though, it's not about you and Ginny or the way you've treated him or your choice in friends,' Hermione added pointedly as she reached across to grasp Harry's hand gently in her own.

'I want to say I don't care what his reasons are but I think we both know I'd be lying if I said that,' Harry said with a small resigned smile. 'What about the rest of the Weasleys? Is my name mud with them as well?'

'Not so much Bill, Charlie and Arthur, they are just trying to keep themselves to themselves and stay out of it as much as possible. George is pretty furious with Ron and Ginny, he called them attention seeking brats and then left for the shop. He hasn't been home since and Charlie says he won't come back until they both stop behaving like children. I think he'd like to hear from you to be honest. He and Fred were always closer to you than they were to Ron anyway.'

'I don't know about that,' Harry retorted sceptically, his cheeks colouring a little at the implication.

'Of course they were,' Hermione said dismissively as if her statement was in no way seditious. 'It was you that they gave the Maurader's Map to, you that they stood by when Ron started behaving like an idiot in the fourth year. You may not have noticed but no-one ever got as close to the twins as you did; you were their friend not just their brother's best mate,' she finished, clearly aware that Harry was ready to argue against this idea.

'Anyway, that wasn't my point,' she said, steering the conversation back on track before Harry could even begin to think of a way to counter her claims. 'My point was that George is on your side in this, I think he's just keeping his distance because he thinks you won't be in the mood for any of them right now.'

Harry nodded and made a silent vow to send George an owl the next day; if he really was standing by Harry in this, he needed to let him know he appreciated it.

'What about Molly?' he asked, trepidation creeping back into his voice.

'She's not doing that well at the moment,' Hermione admitted sadly. 'The way she talks you'd think you were dead. One minute she'll be talking about Fred and then she'll be saying that they've lost you too. Really, I think she's one step away from a complete breakdown. To be perfectly honest, I think Ginny is behaving like a bit of a brat. I mean, I know she's hurting but you'd think she would try for her mother's sake.'

'I'm not so certain she is hurting, I think she's just a bit put out,' Harry said, staring moodily into the depths of his now empty coffee cup.

'Isn't that a bit harsh, Harry? I know she said some horrible things but…'

'No, it's not that, it's not how she treated me,' Harry interrupted. 'It's just that…' he trailed off, knowing that if he continued his sentence he would lead Hermione right to the subject that he had been dreading since they sat down.

'I'm pretty certain she already has a boyfriend,' he finished, hoping foolishly that she might not ask the question he knew was coming.

'How do you know that?' Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing carefully and Harry could tell from the set of her mouth that this was not news to her.

'Well obviously not from you,' Harry snipped unable to keep the petulant tone from his voice.

'I didn't know until last week,' Hermione admitted and Harry was pleased to see that she looked slightly bashful. 'When we arrived back at the Burrow he was there. Ron's blaming you for that too, by the way. He's saying if you'd just stayed with Ginny then she wouldn't be with Smith but I asked her quietly and she admitted eventually that it had been going on for most of the year. Still, that doesn't answer how you know about it,' Hermione continued, undeterred from her original questioning.

'Draco told me,' Harry said, looking purposefully at Hermione, determined that she wouldn't see any sign of shame in his face when he talked about Draco.

'Did he indeed?' Hermione asked, her tone thoughtful as her eyebrows came to rest somewhere near her hairline. 'I wonder how that subject came up.'

It was Harry's turn to answer questions now and no matter how much trouble he thought it might cause, he had to be honest with Hermione.

'When you left, after Ron's little outburst, I owled him and we met for coffee. He wanted to know what had happened to me and when I told him, he told me about seeing Ginny and Smith together when he was at Hogwarts for a few weeks last year,' he said quickly, knowing that the longer he took over it, the harder it would be for him to do.

'So, the Prophet's telling the truth? You really are friends?' she asked, as much to the ether as to Harry. 'I mean I know you spoke up for him but I wasn't expecting… are you sure about this?' she asked and Harry felt his heart lighten a bit. She had asked if he was sure, she hadn't told him he was insane, or asked if Draco had perhaps slipped him a potion.

'I'm sure,' he said with a small smile and then, deciding that now was as good a time as any: 'And the Prophet didn't get it exactly right,' he added, feeling a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks.

'Oh?' Hermione asked curiously.

'We aren't just friends, he's my boyfriend and he's living with me,' Harry admitted shyly before biting on his bottom lip nervously and waiting for her response.

Hermione's eyes widened hugely, before her brows drew together and she silently settled into a frown, nibbling thoughtfully on the side of her nail. Seconds stretched into minutes and Harry began to get more and more nervous. He had to say something, had to break the silence that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He had only just opened his mouth to speak when Hermione held up a hand, effectively silencing him.

The silence continued between them until, after a few minutes, Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling, a more speculative look on her face.

'Okay then,' she said suddenly and Harry couldn't stop himself from jumping slightly.

'Okay then? What do you mean okay then?' Harry asked nervously.

'I mean okay, I'm sure you've thought this through and if it weren't working you wouldn't be living with him. You say that he's worth your time and I trust you. It would be rather foolish of me to start questioning your instincts now wouldn't it?' she said with a quirked eyebrow.

'You don't have a problem with it?' Harry asked before he could stop himself.

'Would it matter if I did?' she asked curiously.

Harry thought about it for a moment. He knew the answer, had known the answer the second she had asked the question but it was the repercussions of the answer that startled him so much.

He didn't care what Hermione thought, not one bit. Of course he cared as far as he wanted her to be happy for him and he loved her but he knew without a doubt that had she flown off the handle and yelled at him he would have been upset but he wouldn't have considered even for a moment giving up Draco because of it.

'Not even in the slightest,' he said, his tone slightly surprised.

'Good answer,' Hermione grinned. 'So it's serious then?' she asked thoughtfully.

'Yeah, it is, we really get on. Better than I even thought we could, I can't quite figure out how it happened but I'm really glad it did,' Harry said and, embarrassingly, found himself struggling not to gush.

'So, it's really all behind you?' Hermione asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice. 'All the horrible things he did? The things his family did?'

'You know as well as I do that we aren't all carbon copies of our parents and you were there at the end, tell me honestly that you still thought he was evil at the end,' Harry challenged, noticing that his tone was more defensive than he had intended it to be.

'I can't tell you that because if I'm honest with you, I've always questioned how evil he was,' Hermione said honestly. 'I mean, he could be a complete git at times and he would wind me up something fierce, but truthfully? I always felt a little sorry for him. He always seemed so isolated.' Hermione had a sad smile on her face as she said this and Harry felt very proud of his friend who seemed to so easily lay aside years of hostility and accept the change.

'I don't think Ron will see it like that somehow,' Harry said, becoming sullen.

'No, I don't think he will, but then I doubt Draco will be able to just let that one go, either, there's a lot of history there.'

'Do you think I should tell him?' Harry asked nervously; he really didn't want to have that conversation with Ron, especially not at the moment, but it would be infinitely worse if he found out accidentally through the Prophet or through hearsay.

'I think what I'll do is talk to him about you and Draco being friends for now and we'll worry about the rest of it when it becomes relevant, don't you think?' Hermione ruminated, not expecting an answer. 'I assume you're keeping the relationship under the radar for now, otherwise I would have read about it in the Prophet and I can't guarantee that Ron wouldn't do something childish, petulant and hurtful to get back at you.'

Harry grinned; you could always count on Hermione to try and iron out all of life's little problems for you.

'I think you might have difficulty keeping it a secret when you're back at school though, what with you sharing a dorm room with him,' she continued, obviously ready to move onto the next problem.

'That's not going to be an issue,' Harry said, grinning slightly and preparing himself for Hermione's inevitable squeal when he gave her the news. 'McGonagall has asked me to be Head Boy and I've accepted, so I won't be in the dorms next year.'

Harry was never able to figure out how Hermione was able to cross the table to fling her arms round his neck without knocking their collection of empty coffee cups to the floor, but manage it she did and Harry found himself with his arms full of his excitable best friend.

'That's brilliant, I was starting to worry but it's you, that's brilliant,' Hermione said, not pausing for breath. 'I'm Head Girl,' she stated unnecessarily, grinning the whole time. Harry had never had any doubt that he would be serving alongside Hermione.

'I haven't told anyone yet though, because…' she trailed off and her expression immediately became serious.

'You and Ron are never going to be able to get past this,' she said wistfully, releasing Harry and sliding sadly back into her seat.

'I'm sure we'll figure it out,' Harry offered, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to reassure Hermione; she looked so disheartened.

'No, it won't,' she replied with a small smile that told Harry she appreciated his attempt. 'I believe that you want to make it right but it's not going to be up to you, and I think that you getting the Head Boy position is going to be just one step too far for Ron.'

Harry looked down at the table, unable to meet Hermione's eyes. He wished she was exaggerating but he knew she wasn't and he was irritated at himself. He hadn't even thought about how Ron might react when he had taken the Head Boy position, he had just been thinking about the fact that he was going to be able to sleep with his boyfriend at school.

'We both know that Ron has always wanted to be Head Boy,' Hermione continued. 'He wanted to be Head Boy, he wanted to be Quidditch Captain, he's always wanted that. I think when Dumbledore made him a Prefect he thought he might actually stand a chance. But McGonagall has brought you in over his head. Not that she shouldn't have, I've always thought you would make a good Prefect, but you know Ron won't look at it logically, he'll just see it as another case of him being pushed aside.'

'I'm sorry, Hermione, this must be horrible for you,' Harry muttered as he began methodically shredding his napkin.

'You have nothing to apologise for, Harry,' Hermione said softly, reaching a hand across to cover Harry's. 'It's Ron that's creating this problem.' She paused for a moment, clearly thinking hard about something.

'You do know that I'm not condoning his behaviour in any way?' she asked carefully. 'I need you to know that normally I wouldn't stand for this but I think that maybe, right now, he needs me to cut him a little slack.'

'I know, Hermione,' Harry reassured, squeezing her hand. 'Look, I better be getting back or Draco will start to worry, but if you want to maybe you could come over next week sometime?' he asked apprehensively.

'I'd really like that, might be an idea if you meet me here though, just in case Ron wants to walk me here.'

'Yeah, of course,' Harry smiled as he helped Hermione on with her jacket. 'I'll send Archie with the details once I've spoken to Draco.'

'I know eventually I'll get used to hearing that adoring tone in your voice when ever you say his name,' Hermione teased, causing Harry to blush.

* * *

The walk back to Grimmauld Place couldn't go fast enough. Harry was so impatient to get back to Draco that he hadn't even gotten half way before he ducked into an alleyway and Apparated to Grimmauld's roof garden, willing to put up with his least favourite form of travel in order to be back with Draco five minutes sooner.

As he stepped out onto the top landing, the delicious scent of cooking assaulted his nostrils. Curious, he crept as quietly as possible down the stairs, peering into different rooms looking for Draco. He'd gotten as far as the first floor landing when he heard a clatter of pans and a muffled string of profanity.

'Draco?' Harry yelled, forgetting about being quiet as his curiosity got the better of him.

'Fucking _ow_! In here,' Draco yelled, his irritated tone drifting up from the kitchen.

With more trepidation than was reasonable, Harry made his way down the steps and into the kitchen. He stopped on the bottom step and his mouth fell open in shock. The surfaces were completely covered in plates and dishes whilst every pot and pan Harry owned crowded on to the large range cooker. In the middle of the disaster stood Draco; he looked hot and flustered as he sucked furiously on his thumb and glared at a tray that was apparently red hot.

Harry crossed to Draco and pulled his thumb from between his lips, inspecting the shiny burn. Draco acquiesced and watched with interest as Harry drew his wand and murmured both a healing charm and a cooling spell to ease the irritation.

'What happened here?' Harry asked, noticing a smear of what looked like chocolate across Draco's cheek and swiping his finger through it to taste the sweetness.

'I made you dinner,' Draco said, his tone inferring that this should really have been quite obvious. 'It will be ready in ten minutes so go wash up,' Draco instructed before laying a quick kiss on Harry's lips and turning back towards a bubbling pot of something on the stove.

Harry stood and stared for a moment, not quite able to process.

'Go!' instructed Draco, swatting Harry lightly across the backside with the spatula in his hand.

Still not able to process the scene enough to protest, Harry hurried from the kitchen and up towards their bedroom to change with just one thought turning over and over in his head. Where the hell did Draco learn to cook?


	13. Chapter 12 Seeing Reason

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and the sacrilegious epilogue is evidence enough of that.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Mirasil who always leaves such wonderful and thoughtful reviews and always manages to make me feel like a real writer.

As always, love and thanks to Saras_girl for finding all my missing commas and providing more than a couple of Draco's lines completely by accident.

Chapter 12

Seeing Reason

_He's Magic and Myth, as strong as what I believe._

_And a tragedy with more damage than a soul should see_

_But do I try to change him? So hard not to blame him_

_Hold me tight, baby, hold me tight._

_Oh and I don't know, I don't know what he's after_

_But he's so beautiful, he's such a beautiful disaster._

_Beautiful Disaster – Kelly Clarkson_

Everything was ready. The meal was cooked and keeping warm in various places in the cooker; the dining room table had been laid and all that was left was for Draco to grab a two minute shower and a change of clothes whilst Harry was freshening up.

It had all come together in the end, though there had been several points throughout the day when he had almost laid all his elaborate plans aside and simply booked a table at a nice restaurant. Still, he had persevered because he wanted to do something nice for Harry, something that took effort and not just money. Not that it hadn't taken a fair bit of the latter to acquire all the best ingredients that were currently out of season.

As he cast a quick drying charm on his hair and buttoned his silver grey shirt he recalled the look of shock on Harry's face when he had walked into the kitchen. He fancied that Harry had literally no clue that he knew how to cook and however limited the truth of that statement, Harry's pleased surprise was well worth the hours of labour that had seen him curse more in the last six hours than he probably had in the previous year.

* * *

'This looks amazing, Draco,' Harry said, inhaling deeply the sweet scented steam that was rising from his bowl. His eyes closed as he savoured the fragrance; in the low candle light he looked so fucking divine that Draco seriously considered for a moment sticking everything under a Warming Charm and whisking Harry up to bed.

Before he got chance, however, green eyes snapped open and stole his voice away with the bright excitement that showed within them.

'What is it?' Harry enthused, lifting his spoon and sinking it into the rich broth.

'It's lobster bisque with armagnac,' Draco smiled proudly, as he watched Harry gently blow steam from his spoon before sipping at the thick liquid. Once again Harry's eyelids sank closed and Draco's heart constricted at the blissful look on Harry's face.

He had cooked this meal before, but this was the first time he had cooked it with the sole intention of impressing someone. He had known that he would get some kind of kick out doing this for Harry but he had not expected the fierce surge of pride that came when Harry asserted:

'This is amazing, Draco.' Harry grinned at him and Draco let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding before picking up his own spoon and smiling warmly back. Harry was right, of course, the bisque was rich and frothy and beautifully seasoned but then a Malfoy didn't do anything unless they could guarantee perfection.

'I've never had lobster before,' Harry said, and Draco detected the smallest hint of nervousness in his voice, as if he were suddenly finding it difficult to make conversation.

'What, never? Really?' Draco asked, mildly surprised.

'Nope, I was lucky to get anything at all at the Dursleys' and it's not something Hogwarts serves on a regular basis,' he shrugged, a touch of colour in his cheeks.

The effect was breathtakingly beautiful and Draco immediately wanted to see it again. He smirked slightly.

'It's an aphrodisiac, didn't you know?' he said innocently, savouring the way Harry dipped his head and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in embarrassment as the flush deepened and he avoided Draco's eyes.

'You are too easy,' Draco asserted with a low chuckle and Harry gazed up at him, eyes wide in confusion.

'What?' Harry asked, his tone plaintive. 'Wait, you were _trying_ to embarrass me?' he asked, expression slightly wounded.

'Of course I was trying to embarrass you, not that I had to try hard,' Draco smirked. 'For a start you must know that the embarrassment of Gryffindors is like chocolate ice-cream to the Slytherin soul.'

Harry shook his head slightly in exasperation and a lopsided smile appeared on his face.

'And even if that weren't the case,' Draco continued. 'You look so beautiful when you're embarrassed.'

The resulting groan and thunk as Harry dropped his head to the table was more than Draco could have hoped for and his face broke into a broad grin.

'You know I could try and return the favour,' Harry offered threateningly, when he finally returned to his soup.

'You could try,' Draco agreed. 'But do you really think that you would be able to put out all the stops necessary to embarrass me, without first dying of mortification?'

Harry was quiet for a moment as he sipped at his soup thoughtfully and considered Draco's words.

'No, probably not,' Harry agreed resignedly. Then, clearly eager to steer the conversation away from how easy it was to embarrass him… 'So, you don't know where food comes from but you know how to make lobster bisque with armagnac?'

'Well, the house-elves were always responsible for acquiring the ingredients, so food just came from them. As to how I can cook? I can't,' Draco said simply.

'I think your secret's out, Draco, I'm eating this and it's amazing, so unless the house-elves cooked it for you, too…?

'No, no, I cooked it, but to say one can cook is to suggest that you possess a general talent, a talent that doesn't involve simply following a set of instructions to the letter,' he admitted. 'I do not possess that talent. What happened was that when I reached a certain age my mother confided in me that women will always swoon over a man who can cook.'

Harry's spoon paused on the way to his mouth and he looked up at Draco, surprise all over his face.

'Yes, I questioned the validity of this statement as well but she was my mother after all and I was still too nervous at this point to inform her that I didn't think I would be trying to impress a girl at any point.'

Harry snorted lightly and Draco smiled indulgently before continuing his story.

'Anyway, she insisted that I should know how to cook one thing. One show-case meal that I could cook to perfection and would whisk Pansy off her feet. So, no, I don't know how to cook, I know how to cook _this_, and that is it. Ask me to make toast and it will be burnt, ask me to boil an egg and it will almost certainly explode, but this,' he said, with a sweep of his hand that encompassed the beautifully laid table, and the now empty bowls. 'This I can do.'

When the main course was served, Harry's eyes widened impossibly.

'Oh God, I love steak,' he said, looking up at Draco with a broad smile.

'Well then, I hope you won't be too disappointed,' Draco offered with a hint of nervousness. When he had first decided to prepare this meal it hadn't occurred to him that anything on the menu was that out of the ordinary but, after Harry admitting to never having lobster before, he was beginning to second guess himself. Now, as his boyfriend assumed that he was about to enjoy a bit of sirloin, the panic started up again.

'It's loin of venison in peppercorn sauce,' Draco clarified, catching sight of Harry's questioning expression.

Harry peered at his steak curiously then, with typical Gryffindor bravery, cut off a slice and slid it into his mouth, chewing contemplatively.

'That's amazing,' he reassured, 'I've never tasted anything like it,' he gushed and once again, Draco relaxed enough to eat.

Conversation died off as Harry began to attack his meal and for long moments only the scrape of cutlery and the occasional sputter of a candle broke the silence.

'So, what's was all this in aid of?' Harry asked all of a sudden, dragging Draco from his thoughts.

'I need a reason?' Draco asked suspiciously, spotting another opportunity to wind Harry up.

'What? No, of course not. I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't mean to…'

Obviously Draco hadn't done as good a job of hiding his smirk as he thought he had because Harry trailed off and shot him a reproachful look.

'I'm sorry,' Draco offered, knowing he really didn't sound in the slightest bit sorry. 'Old habits die hard,' he offered as explanation, earning himself an indulgent smile from Harry.

'I may have been wrong,' Draco said, turning his attention to Harry's original question by way of making it up to him. 'But I thought that after sitting your NEWT and meeting with Granger you might be a little stressed out; I thought this would be a nice surprise,' he said, trying to reassure Harry that he was not really offended by the question.

'It is a lovely surprise, 'specially since I had no idea you could do this,' Harry grinned, lifting his wine glass and then as an afterthought… 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' Draco smiled, finally seeing his way into the subject he'd been eager to ask about since Harry had returned. 'So, how did it go today?' he asked, deliberately trying to keep his tone light so Harry wouldn't suspect him of prying.

'The exam went fine,' Harry said, with a small smile that informed Draco thatthis was going to be the high point of the story. 'We needn't have done any of that stuff on non-verbal theory. Apparently it was only Snape who wanted us to learn about that, it wasn't on the curriculum; as long as you can produce a non-verbal Protego, they really aren't that worried about you knowing how you can.'

'Well, Sev always did like to do things thoroughly,' Draco mused and then, 'and Granger?'

A shadow passed over Harry's face and Draco felt himself prickling at the idea that Granger had upset Harry in some way.

'Ron's still not… I don't think its going to… Ron's been badmouthing me,' he finished at last with an obvious attempt to seem nonplussed. Draco, however, saw straight through the ruse. He wanted to tell Harry that it didn't matter, that he had better friends than Ron and he was better off shot of him but he knew that this would be no comfort at all to Harry.

'I'm sure he'll come round,' he offered, gathering the plates to avoid meeting Harry's eyes, afraid that he would see the lie straight away.

'Yeah, right,' Harry muttered sadly, as Draco went to fetch the desserts, wishing he'd let his curiosity lie and had never brought up the topic of Ron Weasley.

'Mmm, chocolate,' Harry murmured, the moment Draco placed the plate in front of him. 'I assume,' he said, looking up at Draco suddenly in trepidation.

'Bitter chocolate tart with ivory ice-cream,' Draco confirmed with a small nod, delighted to see the smile reappear on Harry's face as he dug into his dessert.

'I'm hoping you don't mind,' Harry began, apparently not finished with their previous topic of conversation and causing Draco's stomach to tighten apprehensively. He really hadn't wanted a miserable Harry tonight.

'I told Hermione about you, and she wants to come over and visit us next week,' Harry finished calmly, as if he'd just announced he was going to make coffee.

'Well, that whole "keeping it under wraps" thing lasted a long time, didn't it?' Draco responded; he was unsure as to whether he should feel put out or amused and in the end he settled for a combination of the two. After all it had been Harry's suggestion to keep it a secret for now.

'Hermione won't tell anyone,' Harry said slightly defensively and Draco held his hands up in submission.

'I didn't say she would but I don't think Weasley will be that restrained,' he said with a shrug. They were always going to have to go through this eventually, maybe it was better to get it over with.

'She's not telling Ron,' Harry said quietly and Draco cursed himself for having brought up Ron's name again. 'She doesn't trust him not to do something to try and hurt me at the moment,' Harry offered resignedly.

'So I take it she took it in her stride then, if she's coming here next week?' Draco asked, trying once again to steer the conversation away from Ron and towards the member of the Golden Trio who wasn't currently causing Harry any distress.

'Yeah, she took it very calmly,' Harry said. 'Surprisingly so, actually,' he added, sounding impressed.

Draco smiled at Harry's obvious pleasure over his friend's easy acceptance. He felt a little guilty, however. He knew that he shouldn't have directed Harry away from talking about the problems with Ron, knew that they were going to have to discuss them sooner or later and he knew that he was being slightly selfish for not wanting the meal he had prepared to be dragged down by really serious talk.

'Right, coffee,' he asserted, dragging himself from his thoughts but pausing suddenly when Harry began to gather the dishes.

'Why don't I clean the kitchen whilst you make coffee?' Harry asked, stepping forward into Draco's personal space. 'Then it will be done and out of the way and we can take our coffee to the drawing room and do…stuff?'

'Hmm, that sounds good to me,' Draco murmured, inching even closer. 'Especially considering the mess I made of your kitchen.'

'I know you're trying to wind me up, Draco,' Harry smiled, his lips impossibly close to Draco's and Draco longed to close the last couple of millimetres.

'But it isn't going to wor,k' Harry continued. 'Because tonight has been the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and that is worth untold amounts of washing up.'

He closed the final distance and pressed his lips firmly to Draco's, quickly deepening the kiss and seeking Draco's tongue with his own. The taste of the chocolate and the sweetness of the ice-cream combined to make Harry's mouth a exquisite place to be and he was very reluctant to pull away.

'Thank you, Draco,' Harry whispered, when he finally ended the kiss and Draco couldn't help but give chase to Harry's lips as he pulled back, fitting them together one more time.

'You are perfectly welcome,' he smirked, taking the opportunity to end the kiss himself this time and make sure that Harry was the one who was left disorientated.

* * *

Despite the success of the meal, they had only been in the kitchen for a couple of moments before Draco felt Harry's mood deteriorate. Cups, plates and pans whizzed about the kitchen, washing and drying themselves and putting themselves away. As Harry's mood became darker, however, the force with which the crockery placed itself in the cupboards intensified until finally one of the wine glasses shattered, sending sharp, glinting fragments skittering across the kitchen floor.

'Enough,' barked Draco, vanishing the broken glass and turning to face Harry, with what he hoped was a pleading look on his face.

Harry did at least have the good grace to appear abashed but pain and anger were still raging behind his eyes and Draco knew that this was going to take a lot more than an appealing look.

'Come with me,' he said, trying to make his voice both firm and reassuring, the way his mother always did when trying to get Draco to do something he didn't want to.

Harry nodded sullenly and followed Draco upstairs to the Drawing Room where he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the sofa. Draco, in the mean time, decided that this conversation was going to require fidget room and so settled himself cross-legged on the rug at Harry's feet, balancing his coffee cup on his knee.

'What's the matter?' he asked simply, wanting to get straight to the point but not expecting for a moment that Harry would actually allow it.

'Nothing,' Harry said heavily. 'It's okay, I was just being stupid, don't worry about it.'

'Oh well, in that case, I'm totally convinced and I'll let it drop,' Draco drawled sarcastically, wondering whether Harry actually believed even for a second that this answer would suffice.

'I'm not going to dump all my problems on you, Draco, you have enough to worry about,' Harry offered with a sad smile and Draco couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

'We're together, aren't we?' he asked suddenly. 'This isn't just you filling your time during the summer?'

'Of course not,' Harry exclaimed, looking genuinely hurt. 'How could you even think…'

'I don't,' Draco reassured, placing a hand on Harry's knee and looking up at him earnestly. He had been fully expecting Harry's reluctance to talk to him about what was wrong, knew that changing his mind would be as easy as convincing him that not talking would upset Draco more than talking.

'But I lean on you, I'm willing to let you see me vulnerable, I just need to know that it works both ways, that you trust me as much as I trust you,' Draco asserted, watching as Harry looked guiltily at the floor.

'Sorry,' he muttered, as much to the rug as to Draco and then with a big sigh, 'It's just that this Ron thing is really getting to me.'

Draco sighed. He had known, from the moment that Ron's name had first come up, that Weasley was most certainly the cause of Harry's angst.

'Tell me what he's done,' Draco said calmly, determinedly avoiding simply telling Harry to forget about Ron, that Ron wasn't worth his time.

'Nothing unusual,' Harry shrugged and Draco just about managed to prevent himself from growling at Harry's casual acceptance of such horrible behaviour. 'I don't think he's good enough, I take him for granted, I don't appreciate his family et cetera, et cetera,' Harry finished.

Draco closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a handle on his anger. He couldn't quite believe Ron's nerve. Draco had only been Harry's friend for four months but already he knew that Harry was the most appreciative person he had ever met. It didn't matter what it was, if he thought there was even the slightest chance someone had put themselves out for him in any way, he was always disgustingly appreciative.

'I know I shouldn't let it bother me but I just feel a bit hurt by it all, I can't believe he would think that about me, and now he's trying to convince his family I don't value their efforts after they've lost their son, because of me. I hate it,' Harry said, the despair in his voice finally audible.

Draco dropped his head into his hand and dragged his fingers roughly through his hair.

'Fuck, Harry, I don't even know where to start with that statement,' Draco sighed. Then taking a deep breath, 'Wait, yes I do. You are not responsible for the death of their son. If I can't do anything else this evening then I need to deal with that,' he said firmly, fixing Harry with a serious gaze.

'I'm a little disappointed actually, because I was pretty certain we'd already had this conversation but I guess it will take more than one to deal with the amount of guilt you're dragging around with you.'

Thankfully Harry looked a little repentant at this.

'You're right, I know you are, I'm sorry,' he said, giving Draco a small smile as he offered his agreement.

'You don't need to apologise, Harry,' Draco countered. 'Just try not to do it again, eh?' For a couple of moments the two boys smiled at each other as they silently agreed that this was about as likely as McGonagall getting naked with Filch.

'Why aren't you furious?' Draco asked suddenly as he realised what it was that had been bothering him about Harry's calm acceptance of Ron's betrayal.

'What?' Harry asked. apparently caught off guard by this question.

'He came over here and kicked the shit out of you, just because you didn't want to go out with his sister any more and now he's defaming you behind your back. Yet for some reason you just seem disappointed in him; you should by all rights be spitting mad,' Draco said, becoming more and more indignant as he went on.

'What good would it do?' Harry asked, with a slight shrug. 'I could be mad at him all I want but all that's going to do is make it harder for him to get his act together and apologise for acting like a tool.'

'Wait, so you're still going to accept his friendship again as long as he apologises?' Draco asked, staring at Harry wide eyed in disbelief. 'You know there's this Muggle saying that I heard, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." This isn't the first time that Ron has turned his back on you and gone off in a sulk, is it?' Draco asked, and Harry shook his head silently, not meeting Draco's eyes.

'So, what makes you think that if you forgive him again this time he won't just do the same again?' Draco asked softly, his stomach clenching. He knew he was on thin ice with this. After all it was only thanks to Harry's forgiving nature that he was here with this beautiful man right now and not rotting in a cell in Azkaban.

Still, he was adamant that he would never push Harry like that, would never expect him to forgive repeated betrayals the way Weasley had, and that was what he had to remember as he continued to challenge Harry's unconditional forgiveness.

'He doesn't mean to do it,' Harry argued weakly and Draco could see that he already knew this wasn't going to cut it with him.

'Which time?' Draco asked, not managing to keep the disdain out of his voice as he realised that simply pointing out how illogical Harry was being wasn't going to work here. He needed to remind Harry of just how often Harry had given Ron his trust only to have it betrayed.

'Was it the time he abandoned you during the Tri-Wizard Tournament because he didn't believe that someone was trying to kill you, perhaps?' he continued cynically.

'We were young and he was sick of coming second place to me, I'm sure it must have been difficult for him. I mean, his brothers had overshadowed him his entire life and then his friend came along and did exactly the same thing,' Harry said, unable to meet his eyes and Draco was relieved that his own behaviour towards Harry at this time hadn't been brought up.

'So, that time you forgave him because you felt that he was simply misdirecting, okay, fair enough,' he relented, at least out loud. In his head he was still pretty disgusted at Ron's behaviour; you could say all you liked about the loyalty and bravery of Gryffindors— Slytherins _always_ stuck together.

'What about last year? He left you to deal with Voldemort on your own when he'd sworn to stand by you. At the time when he needed you most he ran out on you,' Draco pointed out, hoping that Harry would listen to him.

'That was my fault,' Harry said, hanging his head and Draco was forced to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from screaming in disbelief. Instead he took a deep breath and mustered all the self control he could manage.

'How?' Draco asked, surprised at just how calm he sounded. 'How was it your fault that he decided to abandon you?' Despite his calm there was clearly a touch of danger to his question and Harry looked up nervously at him for a moment before once again staring into the depths of his coffee cup.

'I told them that I was going on a mission to destroy Riddle and they offered to help me, how were they to know so much guess work would be involved? They were looking to me for leadership and I failed them; it's as simple as that. I let them down,' Harry said quietly. 'And besides, he came back eventually, if he hadn't come back when he did I would have died.'

'If he hadn't left, you probably wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place,' Draco groused. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, walking quickly to the mantelpiece to lean against it as he composed his thoughts. Harry was fucking unbelievable at times. If it were anyone else sat in front of him he would be certain that they were playing for sympathy. The fact that he actually believed the tripe he was spewing was, however, even more worrying.

'As much as it pains me to say it, Harry, Ron Weasley is not a complete imbecile, well, not in every way. He knew what he was getting into, he knew it was going to be dangerous but once again he walked away from you at the very time you needed him most. Something he seems particularly adept at. His inability to deal with even the smallest hiccup is not your fault, Harry, it is his. That's what friendship is, you know? Real friends help you when you need it not just when it's convenient for them. Fuck, I thought that was the first question on the Gryffindor entrance exam,' he said, dragging his fingers through his hair as he built up steam.

'He's really not all that bad, Draco, I know you can't see it but he has fought alongside me and most of the time I only have to ask and he's there,' Harry protested feebly.

_Yeah, when there was something in it for him,_ Draco thought_._ Harry had already pointed out that Ron was jealous of his fame and his hero status and from Draco's admittedly limited view throughout school, Ron was always there when he stood a chance of sharing some of the glory, but if the task was more likely to get him killed than win him medals then he was nowhere to be seen.

Still, telling Harry that would do no good at all; he didn't even have the smallest sliver of proof and he knew that were he to offer this theory to Harry, he would just come across as bitter and jealous. Instead, all that was left was to try to reassure Harry.

'Look,' he said, kneeling again and resting a hand on Harry's knee and nudging him under the chin with the other, encouraging him to look up. 'I'm not trying to say that you shouldn't be friends with him, I just don't want to see you keep throwing yourself out there and have him run from you the moment you need him. I mean, what was his excuse this time? You told his sister that you weren't going to be able to go out with her. Did he ask you your reasons why at any point?' Draco asked. Harry looked like he was about to make another excuse so Draco pressed on, effectively cutting him off.

'Did he say: "You know what? Harry's had a rough time of it recently what with being murdered and all, maybe I should give him a little time and space?"' Draco asked, gesticulating with his free hand as he began to lose his tight grip on his self control. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself slightly before he continued; shouting at Harry wouldn't help anything.

'I know what you're going to say,' Draco said, once again preventing Harry from leaping to Ron's defence. He could deal with having this conversation but he knew that if he heard Harry issue one more justification for Ron's shocking behaviour, he really was going to have to track the Weasel down and beat him into a bloody pulp.

'You're going to say he's having a hard time at the moment and I would accept that, really I would, if all that was happening here was that he had withdrawn from you, that he wasn't talking to you, but that isn't what's happening, is it? He's actively trying to sabotage you and I don't think I need to remind you that he physically attacked you. That is never okay, Harry. No matter how mad you might have made him.'

Harry pressed his lips together and looked up at Draco from beneath long eyelashes, his eyes full of apology. Still, Draco pressed on, he felt like he was finally getting somewhere and he was determined to get through to Harry that he deserved better than this.

'I was betrothed to marry Pansy,' Draco said, suddenly realising that if Harry couldn't feel outrage at his own treatment he would certainly feel outrage at someone else's. 'At the end of our fourth year Pansy and I sat down and I explained to her that it was never going to happen, that I was gay. She took it really well. I think she would have found being married to me weird anyway; we weren't very compatible.' Draco paused and looked up at Harry who was watching him with rapt attention and the focus was intense enough to send a little shiver down Draco's spine; now was not the time for that thought, however.

'Unfortunately, we were overheard. Goyle heard us and, thinking it would be better for me if the problem of my deviance was dealt with immediately, he told my father. When I returned from school I was summoned immediately to my father's study.' Draco turned his head into the firelight, knowing exactly what angle would be necessary for the thin, barely there scar that ran across his cheekbone to be visible; he heard as Harry sucked in a breath.

'He was brutal that time. It was if he thought he could beat the gay out of me,' he continued and then, indicating his cheek, 'this happened when he swung his cane at my head, one of the fangs on that damned snake caught me and sliced my face open.' Harry's eyes flared with fury and Draco smiled sadly.

'You're angry now, aren't you?' Draco asked, sad that it had taken this much to get through to Harry.

'Yeah, I am,' Harry said, his voice tight and controlled. 'He was your father, for fuck's sake, he was supposed to protect you not beat you,' he finished, apparently still not quite locating the similarities.

'Can you even hear yourself?' Draco asked gently. 'He's your best mate, for fuck's sake, he's supposed to get your back not stab you in it.'

Harry gazed at him for long seconds before seeming to deflate.

'You're right,' he muttered. 'I know you're right, he's just been my friend for so long, I can't imagine not trying to fix it.' And cool fingers wrapped around Draco's own, seeking comfort and reassurance. The silence stretched on and Draco watched Harry carefully, studying their interlaced fingers.

'Part of me still wants to fix it you know, even though I know he's behaving like a twat,' Harry said sadly.

'And how do you think you could fix it?' Draco asked, wondering what ridiculous thing Harry would suggest.

'I was thinking about telling McGonagall that I wouldn't be able to be Head Boy after all, it's something that Ron has always wanted to do,' he offered with a shrug and Draco groaned again.

'You are fucking exasperating, you know that?' he asked, pulling his hand away and burying both of them into his hair again. 'What about what _you_ want, Harry, I know that you weren't keen on it in the beginning but you want this now and you are willing to give it up to make Ron happy? What makes you think what he wants is more important that what you want?' he asked, trying to keep his frustration in.

'I don't, I really don't. I know that what he wants isn't more important than what I want but I can't help it. If I can give someone something that I think will make them happier then I feel compelled to do so,' he explained and Draco could tell that he was trying to reassure him.

'The thing that worries me,' Draco said seriously. 'Is how far you will go? Just how much you will be willing to sacrifice in order to make him happy.' Though he was trying not to be, he was nervous now. He had to ask the question; he couldn't not ask, but no matter how certain he was of Harry's answer there was still a small chance…

'What about when he has a problem with us?' he asked.

'What?' Harry exclaimed, obviously taken aback by the question.

'There's no way he's going to be okay with this, you know he's going to kick up a fuss, so what if he were to offer you a choice— you and he could be friends again as long as you got rid of me?'

'Never,' Harry said, firmly, looking fiercely at Draco. His hand came up to cup Draco's chin and he looked seriously into his eyes. 'I'm not going to give you up for anyone, Draco, I promise you.'

'The point is, I'm not sure what it is that you will be willing to do to make it up to him and I don't know where I come in this equation. You seem to put everyone ahead of yourself but I need you to put yourself first, so where does what I want come in this?'

'I guess I've never had to think about it like that,' Harry said with genuine surprise and Draco bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. He hadn't wanted to resort to manipulation tactics but he was determined that Harry would stop deferring to what everyone else wanted of him.

The thing that worried him was just how easy it was to manipulate Harry and the sheer amount of control he now held over him. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready for that amount of power. Not that it mattered, he had it now.

'I'm sorry,' Harry whispered, leaning forwards and brushing his lips lightly against Draco's. 'I really am sorry,' he muttered again and continued to punctuate his apologies with light kisses. As much as he didn't want to do so, Draco placed his fingers over Harry's lips to cease the kissing.

'I don't want your apologies, Harry,' he said softly, not wanting to sound harsh but needing to make one final point. 'What I need you to do is value yourself, as much as I value you. I want you to think about this, all this evening you have talked about what you would be willing to do if it would get Ron's friendship back. What I want you to think about is what he would have to do to earn your friendship back. This is a two way thing, he is not doing you a favour by being your friend and you are the one that has been wronged here.'

Harry laid a gentle kiss to Draco's fingertips and pulled them away from his mouth.

'I can't promise that I will do that, but I can promise to try,' he said and gave Draco a hopeful look.

'I suppose that will have to do,' Draco sighed, leaning forwards and claiming Harry's lips once more.

* * *

Draco looked at his watch again and glanced in the mirror, straightening his sweater for what must have been the twentieth time before pacing the familiar track back to the Drawing Room window and twitching the curtains aside to watch for Harry's return. He was due to return with Granger… with Hermione any moment now and Draco was inexplicably nervous.

This was insane, why was he nervous about seeing Hermione? He flopped agitatedly down onto the sofa and began to rearrange all the items on the coffee table until they were perpendicular to one another. It wasn't like this was his first time meeting Hermione; he'd had hundreds of lessons with her since they had started school.

_Yeah,_ said the little voice in the back of his head, as he stacked and re-stacked Harry's small selection of books that always lay next to the Drawing Room sofa, _but the last time you saw her was when your friend tried to set you all on fire, and the time before that you looked on in horror whilst your Aunt tortured her._

Who was he kidding? There was no way this was going to work out; he'd been a fool to think that he could just slot himself into Harry's life. There was way too much history here. It would be best for everyone if he just left now and came back later, when Hermione had gone home, to collect his things.

It was at that moment that a key sounded in the lock and Harry's reassuring tones drifted up the stairs.

'Draco, we're here!'

'I still can't quite get my head around that, you know,' came the sound of a female voice, quieter but not in any way admonishing. Straightening his sweater one last time, Draco took a deep breath and headed down the stairs to greet their guest.

'You aren't the only one,' Draco said as warmly as he could manage. Harry looked up at him sharply, pleasure all over his face and he bounded up the steps to place a swift kiss on Draco's cheek. Back in the hallway, Hermione smiled at Harry's behaviour before flushing and looking away when Draco returned the kiss.

Things were quiet as they headed down to the kitchen, as if no one was quite sure what to say about the strange situation in which they found themselves. It had taken a good couple of weeks for Harry and Draco to become really comfortable in each other's company and it seemed that the introduction of a new element just made the whole situation awkward again.

Seeking refuge in the familiar processes of making coffee, Draco left Harry and Hermione to the task of making conversation.

'So, do you know how you did in your exam yet?' Hermione asked, obviously retreating to safe ground until she found her feet.

'Yeah, I got it yesterday, apparently since they only had one to mark, they decided not to make me wait,' said Harry as he settled in a chair that would allow him to look at Hermione but also to watch Draco as he made coffee.

'And?' Hermione asked demandingly and Draco couldn't help but wince slightly as he recognised his own tone coming from Hermione's mouth. When Harry had read his parchment and silently discarded it the previous morning, Draco had responded in precisely the same way.

'Oh,' Harry said, sounding just as surprised that anyone would care as he had the previous morning. 'I got an O,' he said simply as Draco slid cups and the coffee pot on to the table and began to pour.

'Oh, Harry, that's brilliant,' Hermione enthused before accepting her cup from Draco with a distracted 'Thank you' and reaching for the milk.

'It's one step closer to becoming an Auror,' she smiled. Draco, however, frowned when he caught the unenthusiastic look on Harry's face.

'Yeah, one step closer,' Harry repeated, his tone flat and both Draco and Hermione frowned slightly.

'Don't you want to be an Auror any more?' Hermione asked, giving voice to Draco's question as he slid his hand on to Harry's thigh.

'I don't know,' Harry admitted, shrugging and idly beginning to stroke lazy patterns on the back of Draco's hand. 'I know it's what I always said I wanted to do but I'm just not sure anymore.' He paused to sip his coffee but neither Draco nor Hermione rushed to fill the silence. Both knew that when Harry wanted to talk about something it would take him a little while to work up to it and interrupting before he managed it would just give him a good excuse to ignore the whole thing for a little longer.

'When I think about it,' he said finally to his rapt audience, 'I've been doing the work of an Auror since I was eleven. Do I really want to commit myself to doing that for the rest of my life only with more paperwork?'

Draco couldn't argue with that logic. In fact, he always wondered why it was that Harry wanted to be an Auror. Yeah, he was good at it, but if he really wanted to leave his hero status behind, surely doing something where he would be required to be a hero week in, week out wasn't the way to do it.

'So, what do you want to do?' Draco prompted gently. 'Not that you need to make a decision right now, I mean, I have no idea what I want to do, remember?' he said, taking in Hermione's look of horror at his confession.

'I was thinking that I might like to be a Healer,' Harry said, blushing slightly and dropping his gaze to his coffee cup as if he had just proclaimed a desire to be Minister for Magic. Before Draco could even begin to respond, Hermione piped up.

'What an excellent idea, I think you'd be really good at that. What do you think, Draco?' she asked and Draco jumped slightly at being addressed directly. He quickly regained his composure, however, and with a small smile he turned to Harry.

'I couldn't agree more, in fact I think that is the most sensible thing I have ever heard you say,' he agreed and received a vicious flick on the arm for his trouble.

'I know you'd be good at it and you're certainly bright enough if you concentrate,' Hermione asserted with a touch of admonishment.

'And you already know the healing basics, that's bound to help,' Draco added.

'What's that healer training school called?' Hermione asked. 'You know, the really good one?'

'I have no idea, Hermione,' Harry said with a touch of a sigh to his voice.

'I wasn't talking to you, silly, I was asking Draco,' she said and turned to give Draco her full attention.

'Do you mean Curatio's?' Draco asked, delighted to be able to contribute. 'It's an excellent school, the best Healer training school there is, he'll have to get top marks in everything if he wants to get in there.'

'I know,' Hermione agreed undiscouraged, 'but we'll both be able to help him and he would have needed those grades to get into Auror training anyway.'

'I wonder if he's going to need any subjects he's not taking already?' Draco mused, 'because he's not taken Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, has he?'

'If you would talk to him and not about him, he might be able to tell you that he's already checked into this and he's already signed up to do all the subjects he needs to,' Harry said irritably.

'Sorry, Harry, we weren't trying to…' Draco trailed off, unsure what exactly it was he and Hermione had been trying to do.

Harry shook his head and smiled slightly, visibly relaxing.

'I guess I should just accept it and get used to it,' he grinned. 'Hermione's been trying to run my life for me for years; I should have known it was only a matter of time before she found a partner in crime.'

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Hermione humphed and immediately began talking to him about the things she thought would help Harry in the application process. With one final apologetic glance at Harry he threw himself into the conversation, pointing out that he couldn't think of any institution that would deny entrance to the Saviour.


	14. Chapter 13 Paradigm Shift

Disclaimer: Can't think of anything interesting to say this week so pick your favourite disclaimer from the last twelve weeks and insert it here.

Thanks as always to my beautiful editor, saras_girl, who not only fixes punctuation and occasional odd moments of dialogue but can also be relied upon to dissolve a brain freeze with helpful suggestions and help me pick the chapter intro song with some rather obtuse guidance.

This chapter is for Sagitta20 who always offers very reassuring reviews. Slash loud and Slash proud xxx

Chapter 13

Paradigm Shift

_Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile_

_And you use it only for me_

_Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile_

_And you use it only for me_

_So use it and prove it_

_Remove this whirling sadness_

_Secret Smile – Semisonic_

Harry knew something was not right the moment he drifted out of sleep. He stretched out lazily for Draco but his fingers closed around nothing but cool cotton. Slowly, he struggled upwards to rest on his elbow and looked confusedly around the room, trying to figure out what was going on.

Draco was never awake before him in the morning. Very, very occasionally, when Harry dragged himself from Draco's warm embrace, one bleary grey eye would open and he would give Harry a small smile before snuggling further into the duvet and drifting back to sleep.

This morning, however, Draco was nowhere to be seen. This incongruous occurrence was rather portentous in Harry's opinion. Today was the day that everything was to change and he had hoped that he would get just one more day of the comforting routine that they had shared before they returned to Hogwarts and they would be required to find a whole new routine.

Harry lay there for a few minutes more, listening to the sounds of the house, wondering if Draco might just be getting a drink or something. Eventually, however, he realised that Draco wasn't coming back to bed.

Pulling on a sweatshirt, he headed out into the hallway in search of Draco. The house was still dark; the sun had not yet even started to rise. A cold breeze skittered over the back of Harry's neck and it finally occurred to him where Draco was.

Stepping out onto the roof terrace, Harry shivered violently against the October chill. Draco sat on the edge of one of the wrought iron chairs. He had thrown on a pair of jeans and one of Harry's hoodies to protect him against the chill. Back to Harry, his eyes were focused on the horizon, where a strip of lighter sky was beginning to emerge above the terraced rooves and chimneys.

Harry must have made more noise than he thought he had because suddenly Draco turned, eyes wide, and Harry noticed, for the first time, the cigarette resting lightly between Draco's fingers and sending smoke curling into the frosty air.

'Did I wake you?' Draco asked, his voice soft and raspy.

'No, I'd be waking up about now anyway; I was just surprised you weren't there,' Harry said, sliding into the chair next to Draco and curling warm fingers around Draco's cold ones.

Draco leant to the side, resting his head lightly against Harry's arm, before taking another long drag on his cigarette.

'I didn't know you smoked,' Harry muttered, stroking his fingers absently through cold, soft hair and inhaling the scent of Draco's cigarette smoke and finding the scent oddly comforting.

'Not a lot,' he muttered, as he turned to press his icy nose into the side of Harry's neck, 'just when I can't sleep.'

'Why couldn't you sleep?' Harry asked, picking up the packet of menthol cigarettes that lay on the table and turning it over in his hands.

'Because I've gotten used to this, to being here with you and I don't want it to end. I don't want to go back to school. I don't want to be in a place where everybody hates me and I have to pretend we're just friends and we have to creep around behind everyone's back,' Draco said, finally looking up at Harry with an expression that was completely unguarded.

'Let me try one of those,' he said suddenly and Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow at him.

'Gryffindors don't have filthy habits like this,' Draco responded dismissively; with a shake of his head he leant forwards again.

'I'm not going to develop a habit because I try it once,' Harry responded with a roll of his eyes and he slid a cigarette from the packet and rested it between his lips. He was surprised just how minty it tasted and found himself thinking that it was, in fact, rather pleasant.

With a shrug, which clearly said, _don't blame me,_ Draco withdrew a silver lighter from his pocket and flipped it open, holding it up to the end of the cigarette. Harry sucked the smoke deep into his lungs, enjoying the cooling feel of the menthol for about two or three seconds before he began to splutter and cough.

'I did warn you,' Draco said, arching his eyebrow in amusement.

'It's fine,' Harry retorted. Draco failed to suppress a smirk as Harry stubbornly took another draw on his cigarette and managed not to cough. He really couldn't understand why Draco would choose to do this but there was no way he was going to allow it to beat him.

They fell into silence again and Harry watched the curls of smoke, mesmerised.

'It's going to be okay,' Harry said finally and Draco looked across at him from beneath his fringe. 'We'll find a way to make it work, and we'll be back here on Saturdays, that's not too bad, is it?'

'I know,' Draco said resignedly. 'I just…' he trailed off, looking down at his feet.

'You just, what?' Harry asked gently, dropping his mostly finished cigarette to the ground and reaching out to tilt Draco's face up to meet his.

'I've become rather accustomed to sleeping next to you, I don't want to go back to sleeping alone,' Draco admitted, looking anywhere but into Harry's eyes.

The sentiment was so sweet, so unexpected and so un-Draco that Harry couldn't help himself. He shuffled forwards, ignoring the awkward angle, to press cold lips together.

'I'm not looking forward to that either,' he admitted and was pleased when silver eyes looked up into his own, seeking reassurance. 'But we will figure it out, Draco, I promise,' he whispered.

Draco's smile was dazzling and Harry sought his lips once more, elated that he had been able to reassure him.

'A Gryffindor promise,' Draco said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Harry's. 'It's as good as done.'

* * *

The morning passed in a whirl of coffee and packing, activity punctuated by brief kisses and lingering touches, as Harry tried to commit as much of Draco to memory as he could. Once they were on the train, their intimate familiarity would have to stop and he knew that he would struggle to keep his hands off of Draco at a time when he was sure to be feeling nervous about taking up his new position.

Harry finished his packing long before Draco and sat himself cross-legged on the bed, determined to 'help' as Draco endeavoured to whittle down his extensive wardrobe to the things he absolutely needed to take.

'We're going to be back on the weekends,' Harry said with mild exasperation, as Draco pulled what had to be the fifth pair of jeans from the wardrobe.

'There is no way on this earth I am taking fashion advice from a Gryffindor,' Draco shot back with a withering look and Harry couldn't stop himself from pulling a face. It was a testament to how much more laid back Draco was these days, that his only response to Harry's childish face-pulling was to poke out his tongue and return to his task with a small smile on his face.

'What am I going to have to do?' Harry asked suddenly, flopping back against the pillows and voicing the concern that had been chasing its tail in his head for the better part of an hour.

Draco paused in the folding of his Quidditch gear to fix Harry with a questioning gaze as he raised a rather suggestive eyebrow.

'I really hope it's never case of _have to_,' Draco purred and Harry frowned at him for a moment before realising what he was saying and throwing a pillow in his direction, which Draco easily avoided.

'I meant as Head Boy,' Harry clarified, exasperated. 'I was never a Prefect, I have no idea what you guys did, except get to use the fancy bathroom.'

'Well,' Draco started, dropping his neatly folded robes into his trunk and sitting on the edge of the bed. 'We had to patrol the corridors after curfew and make sure everyone was in bed; we were able to punish minor infractions but mainly we were there to support the younger members of the house, to help them to settle in and be someone they can talk to when they can't talk to the teachers.'

'Oh,' Harry said, slightly surprised. He wouldn't admit it to Draco on pain of death but he hadn't thought for a moment that Draco would have taken his Prefect duties seriously. Listening to him, though, he could hear just how committed he was to the position.

That was before, he told himself, when he had assumed that Draco was nothing more than an arrogant bully and he had certainly been proven wrong on that front. So, it really shouldn't surprise him that many of his other assumptions would be wrong too.

'Don't worry,' Draco said, clearly mistaking Harry's contemplative moment for concern. 'You won't have any students to shepherd; your job will to be liaise between the Prefects and the teachers,' he said with a smile and a reassuring pat to the thigh. 'Anyway, I'm sure McGonagall will go through all of this with you when you get to the castle and I'll be there to help you if you have any problems,' he offered.

The yelp of surprise that Draco issued as Harry pounced on him, pinning him against the bed, was quickly smothered when Harry covered Draco's mouth with his own. The kiss was fierce, a frenzy of lips, tongues and teeth and when Harry finally pulled back both boys were gasping, chests heaving.

'What was that for?' Draco asked, as he lay on his back, eyes closed, and his fingers came up to touch his own lips.

'Saying you'll help me,' Harry said simply and immediately he felt foolish. Springing up from the bed, he shrank down his trunk and slid it into this magically enlarged rucksack, refusing to look back at Draco. He knew that if he did he would flush and Draco would ask why, and he knew that he didn't have the answer.

He had no idea why Draco's offer to help was so reassuring and so surprising. All he knew was that the confirmation that Draco would continue to be there, continue to support him, was all the comfort he needed.

They were out of the door with a full hour to make the trip to King's Cross, deciding that they would much rather get there early and slip unseen onto the train before crowds of excitable Hogwarts students turned up with nothing better to do but point and stare. This was rather fortunate as, no sooner had they reached the other side of the park, Draco stopped in his tracks.

Harry's stride faltered and he turned to look at Draco, concern on his face; he wondered whether now that the moment had actually arrived, Draco might refuse. Draco's face, however, was a picture of confusion as his eyes raked over Harry's body, forcing a shiver from him as he stood under that intense gaze.

'We've forgotten something, wait here,' Draco said; abruptly he turned on his heel and walked back towards the house, leaving a confused Harry to stare in his wake.

It took only two minutes for Draco to reappear, jogging back towards Harry at a casual pace, but in that time Harry managed to try and reject six or seven plans to get Draco to Hogwarts. These ranged from extremely 'persuasive' means, to wondering if he would be able to immobilise Draco so that he could Floo him to Hogwarts forcibly.

'What did we forget?' Harry asked as Draco stopped in front of him, unable to rein in his curiosity as to what they could have possibly forgotten that wouldn't wait until the weekend.

Harry groaned softly when Draco opened his hand to reveal two gleaming badges—one golden and marked with an 'H.B', the other deep red. They had been sitting in a little wooden box on Harry's bed side so that he wouldn't have to think about them until really necessary. Still, he didn't protest as Draco took a moment to pin first one and then the other to a section of his jumper which would be hidden by his jacket and out of view of any passing Muggles.

'There, very shiny,' Draco asserted, beaming at Harry as he smoothed down his jacket and Harry could see the pride glowing in his eyes and fuck, he loved the charming, peculiar, idiot and he was totally and utterly screwed.

'Thanks,' he muttered warmly and then inwardly, _'I love you.'_

The walk to the train station was completed mostly in silence, with only the occasional reassuring brush of chilled fingers as Draco's nerves apparently began to get the better of him. This worked well for Harry as he struggled with his most recent revelation, turning it over and over in his head, trying desperately to understand how it happened.

There was no question that they had become very close in the last few months and Harry had been comfortable when he thought of the whole thing as a mixture of friendship and sexual attraction, but this was different. This was gut twisting, achy, want and need. This was a realisation that if he were told he could only see one person for the rest of his life, he would choose Draco without a moment's thought.

Just like that everything had been turned on its head and Harry had gone from warm mutual affection to being out there on his own, having no choice but to put his faith in Draco and pray that he wouldn't rip him to shreds, and he still couldn't understand where the blind faith to brave this vulnerability was coming from.

Harry wasn't even aware that they had reached King's Cross until Draco pulled him roughly into a side alley and pressed him firmly against the wall, mouths coming together and tongue pressing forward, begging entry to Harry's mouth. Harry gripped at the wall behind him for support and quickly submitted to Draco's rather forceful request.

By the time Draco pulled away, Harry was caught in a position somewhere between confusion and arousal. It wouldn't take much for someone to discover their hiding place and this was both thrilling and terrifying to Harry but, if Draco was willing to risk it, then quite frankly, fuck it. He surged forwards recapturing Draco's mouth and slowing the kiss, deepening it until he managed to draw a longing moan from Draco's throat.

When they broke apart again, Draco looked thoroughly dishevelled and his kiss-swollen lips hitched into a beatific smile that took Harry's breath away.

'I know that I was worried about something but I really can't remember what it was,' Draco said breathily, leaning into Harry and burying his face in his jacket. Unable to resist giving Draco the comfort he clearly needed whilst he still could, Harry brought up his arms to circle Draco's shoulders and dropped a kiss onto the top of his head.

'Then my work here is done,' Harry said, smiling into the blond hair and inhaling deeply, allowing Draco's scent to comfort and reassure him once more. The location was far from pleasant, hidden from the main street by a large dustbin. The alleyway was cold and damp and the smell of wet cardboard and day old Chinese food from the adjoining restaurant surrounded them, but at that moment they could have been anywhere and Harry wanted nothing more than to continue holding Draco.

'We should get going,' Draco muttered, his tone reluctant. 'Otherwise we will have to make our way through swathes of your admirers to get to the train.'

Harry gave a moan of protest and clutched Draco even tighter to his chest, causing Draco to chuckle slightly.

'C'mon,' he insisted gently, tugging Harry away from the wall. As he stepped away, the chill, the damp and the stench of the alley rushed into the space he had left and it took every shred of Harry's not inconsiderable willpower to stop himself from pressing against Draco once more and Apparating them straight back home. Back to where they could just be themselves and no-one would be watching, scrutinising and judging them.

As they slid through the barrier onto platform nine and three quarters, the sight of the scarlet steam train filled Harry's stomach with a cold sense of dread. Looking across at Draco, he could see that he too had visibly paled and he immediately pushed away his own apprehension.

At twenty past ten the platform was still deserted. The only person in sight was the guard, who made sure that people entered the Muggle part of the station in a reasonable way and even he was sitting in his little guard hut with a copy of the Prophet spread open on his knees as he sipped at a mug of something warm and steaming.

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry grasped Draco's hand and rubbed soothing circles on the back of it with his thumb.

'C'mon let's get on with this,' Harry said, gently tugging Draco towards the front carriage and Draco trailed along behind him, obedient for once.

Harry hadn't known what to expect from the Prefects' carriage, so he would have probably been surprised whatever he found. Still, he hadn't expected the open space with the large squashy armchairs and sofas grouped around. Large jugs of coffee and tea sat on a coffee table in the centre along with a plate of biscuits.

As Harry stood, taking in the new environment, Draco slid past him with a small smile and set about removing and resizing his trunk and moving around the compartment like he was supposed to be there. Harry stepped over to look out of the window, watching as the first couple of families arrived on the platform. Shiny leather trunks and nervous expressions identified the small dark haired child as a first year.

'I don't ever remember being that small,' Harry said quietly, as the window fogged with his breath. 'Hey, Draco, take a look at this,' Harry called, turning to him, but whatever thought he'd been about to share dribbled out of his mind as he caught sight of Draco.

He stood facing Harry with a curious expression on his face, having just thrown his robes over the nearest chair, whilst his sweater casually dangled in one hand. Trousers hung low on his hips, exposing the angular hip bones and Harry could barely suppress the urge to kneel in front of him and lick his way across the smooth plains of his stomach.

'What is it?' Draco asked, coming to stand next to him and peering through the window. 'Harry?' he asked, stroking a hand down Harry's arm when he failed to respond.

'I, uhhh…' Harry's brain was fuzzy and his mouth was dry as he looked at Draco standing before him half naked. He reached out trembling fingers and trailed them across a pale collar bone, swallowing hard and trying to remember how to talk. He had seen Draco naked many times but there was something about seeing him so exposed and perfect in this unknown setting that caught Harry like a punch to the gut.

'Are you alright, Harry?' Draco asked with a knowing smile, stepping forward into Harry's personal space until Harry could feel the heat radiating from him even through his clothes. 'Is there something I can do to help you, perhaps?' Draco asked, so that Harry could feel his breath ghosting across his neck.

Finally snapping out of his daze, Harry grabbed Draco by the wrist and pulled him towards the bathroom.

'What are we doing in here?' Draco asked innocently as Harry backed him against the door.

'Shut up,' Harry breathed, pressing forward, eager to once again taste the warm bitterness of coffee on Draco's tongue. Draco gave a little yelp of surprise and Harry took the opportunity to slide his tongue past parted lips and in to the cavern of Draco's mouth. Long fingers slid around his neck and it was Harry's turn to moan when blunt fingernails scraped under his t-shirt and across his back.

Releasing Draco's mouth, Harry attacked the smooth pale skin of neck and collarbone before sinking even lower and dropping to his knees. His fingers were just working open Draco's jeans when he heard the sound of a door sliding open followed by the heavy sound of a trunk being dragged across the floor.

The groan that issued from Draco this time was one of pure frustration. Harry allowed his head to fall forward, forehead resting against Draco's warm stomach as he tried to will away the hardness now making his own jeans uncomfortably tight.

'Fucking perfect,' he muttered and then realising just how awkward their situation was: 'What the fuck are we going to do now?' he asked, looking up at Draco and recognising a hint of panic in his voice.

'You were the one who dragged me in here,' Draco said poutily, crossing his arms across his bare chest. 'Are you telling me that you didn't have a plan?'

'I had a plan, it was a very good plan and I didn't hear you objecting to it,' Harry huffed. 'I just hadn't thought that far ahead,' he admitted bashfully.

'Ahhh, so what we have here is a beautiful combination of Gryffindor bravery, impulsiveness and stupidity?' Draco asked, smiling indulgently down at Harry and stroking a hand through his hair.

'Hey,' Harry exclaimed indignantly.

'Keep your voice down,' said Draco in a harsh whisper, and pressed his ear to the door to try to ascertain if they might have already been discovered.

'So what are we going to,' Harry asked, dropping his voice.

'Well, one of us is going to have to go out there and distract them and…'Draco was cut off by a light rapping on the door.

'It's safe to come out now,' came a quiet female voice and both Harry and Draco sighed with relief.

With a very sheepish expression on his face, Harry followed Draco out of the bathroom only to come face to face with Hermione, who was struggling valiantly to contain her amusement. Harry envied Draco in that moment as he swept past Hermione, offering her a grateful smile, and sauntered over to where his robes were still draped on the back of the chair as if being discovered half naked in a train bathroom was no more of an unusual occurrence to him than putting his shoes on.

'I sent Ron back into the main station to get me a Coke,' she explained. 'I saw your trunks there and came to a conclusion,' she offered smugly, obviously relishing in Harry's embarrassment.

'Thanks,' Harry muttered, moving to retrieve his own robes and deliberately keeping his eyes away from Draco.

'Not that I mind or anything, but if you want to keep this quiet you might want to exercise a little more caution,' Hermione said, turning to Draco with an almost Slytherin-worthy smirk.

'Don't look at me,' Draco countered as he effortlessly knotted his tie and straightened it.

Hermione turned to Harry, her lips pressed into a thin amused line and her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

'I'm just going to go and…' Harry pointed back toward the bathroom with the arm that wasn't currently draped with his heavy school robes and quickly ducked back into the small room.

When he emerged fifteen minutes later he had managed to regain some of his composure. The compartment was rapidly filling up now. Ernie Macmillan and Anthony Goldstein were standing in one corner, offering reassurance to a small group of what appeared to be fifth year Prefects.

Several of the girls, including Padma Patil and Hannah Abbot, had settled onto a few of the couches and were discussing their summers in hushed, slightly sombre tones. Draco was in the far corner, engaged in what appeared to be a somewhat awkward conversation with Millicent Bulstrode, whilst Ron and Ginny sat shooting angry glares at his back and Hermione tried, ineffectively, to redirect their attention.

It didn't take long, however, for eyes to start swivelling in his direction and then darting back to look at Draco and then back to him. Sighing internally, Harry set his jaw and made his way to where Draco was leaning gracefully against the wall and slouched next to him.

'Did you forget how to tie your shoes or something?' Draco drawled as he slumped against the wall and Harry was struck by a sudden realisation. The tone was one that he had heard a hundred times before, all contempt and challenge, but the warmth in his eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips erased any real bite that the slight against his intelligence could have carried. Harry was left wondering just how many times Draco might have insulted him in a similar way just for him not to get the joke.

'Bite me!' Harry retorted, knocking Draco with his shoulder and smiling, delighted, when Draco returned the grin.

'Harry, Millie here is my new counter part,' Draco explained, suddenly reminding Harry that there was currently a third member of their group and immediately he felt ashamed at his lack of manners.

'Congratulations, Millie,' Harry said warmly; catching Millicent's shocked expression, he broadened his smile in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

'It's nothing to be proud of, really,' she said shyly and Harry found himself having to strain to hear the soft voice. It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't certain whether he had ever even heard Millicent speak before.

'Why not?' he asked and he was surprised to see Millie blush.

'Well, there weren't many other choices, were there?' she pointed out sadly, 'and it feels a little bit wrong to replace Pansy like this, considering.'

Instinctively, Harry reached out a hand and squeezed Millicent's upper arm reassuringly, feeling an overwhelming need to try and comfort her.

'I know,' was all he could think to say, as he offered what he hoped was a soothing smile. Millicent, however, looked at him rather wide eyed as if he had just declared his intention to exhume Riddle's body so that he could be the surprise guest at his next teddy bears' tea party.

'I told you he didn't bite,' came Draco's soft drawl from next to him and finally Millie gave a small smile. Harry realised that he had never seen her smile before and he was left wondering how he had ever interpreted the lively, warm brown eyes as cold and aggressive.

Their stilted conversation was interrupted when the sound of the shrill whistle, that announced the train's imminent departure, sounded throughout the compartment and the assembled Prefects began to make their way towards the collected seating.

'What's going on?' Harry asked in an undertone as Draco used his elbow to guide him gently to where two armchairs sat as the focus of the clustered seating.

'Well, now that we're all here we gather around and the Head Boy and Girl introduce themselves and give a kind of speech about the coming year, anything we need to be particularly aware of before we set off to patrol the train,' Draco said, matching Harry's tone so as not to draw attention. Harry, however, simply stopped dead in his tracks.

'I have to give a speech?' he asked in a horrified whisper. 'A fucking speech? Why are you only telling me about this now, Draco?'

'Because, I knew had I told you about it before, you would have fretted about it right up until you were required to give it. This way you only have a few seconds to worry about it and since you always fly by the seat of your pants anyway, it wasn't like you were going to need preparation time,' Draco explained simply, pointing Harry towards his chair before arranging himself gracefully on the floor, leaning back against the arm of the nearest sofa.

Harry threw him his most pissed off glare but couldn't help but draw some comfort from the way Draco had eschewed the more comfortable seating in order to position himself as close to Harry as possible without being really obvious.

Hermione caught sight of his nervous expression and offered him a reassuring pat on his hand before standing up and addressing the group.

'Hello everyone, and welcome to the beginning of the Autumn term,' she said, effectively silencing the low hum of chatter. Harry didn't really hear what it was she was saying after that as his thoughts kept straying to what the hell he was going to say to these people and, occasionally, how long it would be before he would be able to run his tongue along the little patch of neck behind Draco's ear that he exposed when he propped his head lazily in his hand.

Still, he caught enough of what Hermione was saying to know that she had addressed the issue of the increased student body and the fact that due to tragic losses there were a lot of people who were going to need support this year, and that she hoped that they would all be able to rely on one another.

Then she was turning the floor over to Harry and he was rising to his feet, still with no idea what he was going to say. What could he tell them? He had never been a Prefect; he had no idea what it was that Hermione and Ron had done when they disappeared off for hours at a time to do mysterious Prefect-related things. Why had McGonagall asked him to do this in the first place, and more importantly why had he agreed to it?

There was a shuffle from his right and a highly polished, expensive looking loafer brushed casually against his trainers. He glanced across at Draco who was staring up at him, a confident smirk on his face, before realising that the Slytherin Prefects were all collected behind and around him, completely separate from everyone else. Everything clicked into place at that moment and, tapping into the indignation he felt at his boyfriend being shunned by his class mates, he began to speak.

'Well, I'm glad to see you all here,' he began, taking a deep breath. 'For any of you who don't know, I'm Harry.' He had to pause here when Draco snorted rather inelegantly and began to cough whilst Millicent thumped him firmly on the back.

'I'm sure you are all aware that I was not a Prefect so I'm going to be on a bit of learning curve myself here and I'm going to ask you all to bear with me whilst I get the hang of things.' He looked around at the assembled faces that looked back at him; there was awe, affection, curiosity and irritation in equal measure and he wondered how what he was about to say was going to be accepted.

'Professor McGonagall asked me to take this position, however, because in light of recent events, she was concerned about the harmony of the school. A lot of us have been hurt or have lost people in the war and it would be very easy for us all to begin pointing fingers, for us to redirect our anger away from those who have wronged us and towards more convenient targets.

'This is a problem which we are going to have to work particularly hard to combat this year. Because we must not stand for the same kind of prejudice and persecution that we fought so hard to rid ourselves of,' he finished, exhaling sharply.

'I'm going to step aside now and let you get on with your normal duties but if anyone has anything they want to discuss with either of us we will endeavour to help in any way we can.' With that he flopped gracelessly back into his chair and shot another look at Draco who subtly mimed a round of applause and gave Harry a proud smile, as Hermione distributed patrol rotas for their first week.

For the rest of the journey to Hogwarts the Prefects drifted in and out of the cabin, taking it in turns to patrol the train. Harry, however, barely had the chance to collect his thoughts, so inundated was he with questions. Everyone wanted to ask him something and most of those somethings led, eventually, to why he had been hanging out with Draco Malfoy.

Draco stayed away during these interrogations; according to the note which Hermione passed to Harry, Draco had decided to give him some space, going to talk with Nott. Still, as he repeated the same line about growing up and no longer being bound by childish rivalries for what felt like the hundredth time, he couldn't help but wish that Draco was there with him.

'So, you got Head Boy, then,' came a familiar voice from behind him, dripping with contempt. 'And here was me thinking you weren't interested in being the centre of attention.'

Resigning himself to having the conversation he had been dreading since the moment he stepped onto the train, Harry turned slowly to see Ron, arms folded crossly over his chest.

'Ron, please don't,' he requested, hoping that Ron might have respect for his position, even if he no longer had any affection for him.

'Don't what, Harry? I have a question for you, that's all,' Ron said defensively, though Harry could hear the smug undertone which always surfaced when Ron thought he was being really clever.

'Okay, what's your question?' Harry asked apprehensively.

'I was wondering how much Ferret-face paid you to keep him out of Azkaban and pretend to be his friend,' Ron asked, his face twisting into a cruel smile.

Pure rage surged through Harry's veins and his hands curled unconsciously into fists at his side as he struggled to maintain his self-control.

'First, don't call him that. Second, he didn't pay me to keep him out of Azkaban, I spoke up for him because he helped us; you know that, you were there,' he said slowly, as if explaining to a particularly stupid child.

'Finally, Draco doesn't need to pay anyone to be his friend, I'm his friend because I like him, because we get on well and because he was there to support me during the summer when things got hard, unlike some other people I could mention,' he spat bitterly, stepping aggressively towards Ron as he began to lose it a little.

'I can't fucking believe you, Harry.' Ron's face grew red at Harry's accusation, clashing horribly with his hair, and spittle flew from his mouth as his rage intensified. 'After everything I've done for you, after everything you put my family through…'

'Ron, that's enough.' Hermione's sharp tones cut through the tension. She had just walked back into the room with Draco and immediately she was situating herself between Harry and Ron and pressing her boyfriend backwards. Simultaneously Draco appeared at Harry's elbow and began to steer him gently away from the impending altercation.

'I can't believe him,' said Harry the moment Draco had pushed him down into a chair and sat down opposite him, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

'What did you expect?' Draco asked with genuine surprise.

'He's never been like that before,' Harry protested feebly. 'I've never seen him like that before.'

Draco looked down at his shoes as if choosing his next words carefully but Harry, still riled from Ron getting up in his face, wasn't in the mood to wait patiently for Draco to compose his thoughts.

'What?' he snapped and Draco looked up, slightly alarmed for a moment before cool disdain flooded his eyes, making Harry shiver slightly.

'He's never been like that to you before,' Draco said bluntly. 'But in case you didn't notice, he's always been a bit of a prick.'

Harry was caught. His instinct was to defend Ron, no matter what he had done, but defending him against Draco seemed wrong somehow. Clearly sensing Harry's confusion, Draco ploughed on, his voice softening slightly.

'He's callous and cruel, Harry, he always has been. He tries to deal with his own insecurities by belittling everyone else and no, that wasn't what I did. I went around behaving like a perfect little arrogant tosser and expecting everyone to think I was wonderful because that was what was expected of me. I'm not excusing myself, just claiming that he is no better,' Draco pressed on, determined to make his point. Seeing that Harry was taking some time to consider this, he paused for a moment, giving his words time to sink in.

'I don't think he means it,' Harry offered weakly, thinking of the time when Draco had come looking for him on the train in the first year to offer him his hand in friendship and, right off the bat, Ron had laughed and sneered.

'I'm sure he doesn't,' said Draco softly, looking out of the window at the now dark countryside. Harry looked out at the night as well and wondered what his life would have been like had he just ignored Ron's childish remarks in the first year and taken Draco's hand.

The lights of Hogsmeade began to appear, twinkling in the distance. Brushing Draco's knee lightly to get his attention, he looked deep into liquid silver eyes and tried to silently covey all the words of apology, thanks and love that were struggling to escape his throat. The warm smile that curled the corners of Draco's mouth as the train began to slow was all the reassurance that Harry needed.

* * *

The Great Hall was all at once exactly the same and completely different. The tables and the golden plates and goblets were all exactly the same, as was the ceiling reflecting stars hanging in the frosty October night. The scorch marks that marred the stone in places were new as were the large sections of slightly paler stone that made up large patches on the back wall.

The thing that felt the most different, however, was the atmosphere in the Hall. He remembered walking into the room seven years before and being overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it all. As he took his seat, making sure that he had a good view of the Slytherin table, he realised that the whole space seemed a lot smaller than he remembered it.

He listened as the Sorting Hat sang a song about victory and unity and divided the first years, clapping each one regardless of the house they ended up in. His concentration drifted as McGonagall spoke of responsibilities to the dead and to themselves, as she spoke about the new structure and how the years would work. There were new professors to introduce and Harry was pleased to see that when McGonagall introduced the small shifty-looking man with an oily smile known as Professor Cannock, Draco didn't join in the polite round of applause and instead fixed him with one of his more disapproving glares.

He watched Draco blanch slightly and swallow heavily as the new Muggle Studies professor was introduced and when McGonagall mentioned that they also had a new Potions professor beginning this year due to Slughorn's retirement, Draco's eyes met his and they shared a sad look. Despite his absolute hatred of the man, Harry couldn't help but wish that Snape was back in his dungeon, swooping about like an overgrown bat, scaring the crap out of the first years and finding every possible excuse to deduct house points from him.

Still, he looked up when McGonagall introduced Professor Foley, a petite blonde witch with an easy smile, and informed the students that she would also be taking over as the head of Slytherin house. This immediately sent a shiver down Harry's spine as he wondered who would be the new head of Gryffindor. After all, there was no way McGonagall could continue in that position, but the idea of the man who had point blank refused to even consider teaching him taking over the house worried him somewhat.

He need not have worried, however, as McGonagall addressed this subject next, informing them that Professor Firenze would be taking over the running of Gryffindor, news which bought a few disappointed sighs from a cluster of Hufflepuff girls.

The feast was magnificent as always and Harry did his best to forget about the people at the other tables who were still craning their necks to get a look at him, and to forget about Ron and Ginny who were sitting a few people away from him, shooting him matching evil looks.

When the feast was over there was a massive scraping of wood on stone as everyone in the Great Hall rose to their feet. He looked longingly across at Draco as the Prefects began to shepherd the impossibly large first year class to their dorm rooms. He caught a slightly apologetic look on Draco's face as he swept from the room, leading a trail of nervous looking kids behind him.

'C'mon, we need to join McGonagall,' Hermione said quietly at his side and began to nudge him forwards out of the Hall. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting this, he reasoned as he trudged towards the Headmistress' office with a thankfully silent Hermione at his side. It was just that he hadn't expected it to be as hard as this.

The day had been tiring and had tried his patience and frayed his nerves and he knew it had affected Draco similarly. All he wanted to do now was to curl up in bed with Draco and whisper reassurance and hear Draco return it, to lose himself in touches and kisses that would drag out for agonisingly long moments.

Apparently, Hermione could see his distraction and steered him effortlessly through the castle and up to McGonagall's office. She paused outside the door, laying a hand on Harry's arm to still him.

'We're here,' she announced quietly. 'Try to pay attention, won't you?' she asked; without waiting for an answer she knocked on the door and they were immediately called upon to enter.

Harry tried valiantly to keep his attention on McGonagall's words as he sat in her office and listened to the responsibilities and duties he would have as Head Boy. Patrol rotas that needed submitting once a week, meetings with the faculty that needed to be attended once a month. Apparently, Prefects were supposed to work as a liaison between the students and the staff and they were to act as spokespeople for the Prefects.

There was a long list of privileges as well, which included no curfew, and their own rooms as well as the normal Prefect bonuses but eventually he began to zone out. It had been a long day and it seemed far too long ago that he was sitting on the roof of Grimmauld smoking cigarettes with Draco. It was because of this, that when McGonagall rose to lead them to their rooms he was inordinately grateful.

He just wanted to go to bed, to go to sleep and then tomorrow would get here all the sooner and he could concentrate on finding a way to smuggle Draco into his room at night.

Their rooms sat in a long corridor on the third floor. There was a large shared common area in the centre where they could sit and relax or do their homework and their individual rooms lay through heavy wooden doors on opposite sides of the room.

Giving Hermione a friendly smile and a sleepy goodnight, he decided to leave his exploration of the main lounge until he was feeling a little more awake and headed straight into the room that McGonagall had indicated was his, closing the door behind him and leaning back against the cool wood.

The room was large and beautifully decorated with dark wood and white furnishings. A large four poster bed sat in the centre, heaped with pillows and blankets. On one wall there was a small grate, currently filled with a brightly burning fire and keeping the damp Autumn chill at bay. On the other wall, directly beneath the mullioned window, was a desk and chair.

Slowly, Harry began to remove his robes, folding them tidily and placing them over the back of the desk chair, even though Draco wasn't there to scowl at him were he to drop them on the floor. Retrieving a pair of pyjamas from his trunk, he pulled them on and slid beneath the covers, extinguishing the candles and expecting sleep to claim him pretty much immediately.

Two hours later Harry was still awake and staring up at his canopy. He felt foolish admitting it, even to himself. but his bed was too big, too empty and he wanted Draco.

What was making this distance all the more difficult was that as Head Boy he had in his possession the passwords to all of the house dormitories. He knew that with his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map he would be able to sneak down into the dungeons and into Draco's bed relatively undetected. The problem was of course that he wasn't sure whether he should really begin abusing his power within only three hours of obtaining it.

It took half an hour to convince himself that it was okay for him to use the password and that this wasn't the beginning of a slippery slope that would lead him to become the next Dark Lord. As soon as his decision had been made, however, he was out of bed, retrieving his invisibility cloak and heading out into the dark silent passageways of Hogwarts castle.

As he negotiated the multiple staircases and corridors he felt warm familiarity wash over him. There was something about the sound of the cloak flapping about his ankles and the crinkle of the map in his pocket as he padded through the castle in socked feet that reminded him of just how much of a home the castle had become to him.

Harry began to panic slightly at the creak of a door followed by the clack - clack - clack of someone climbing the stone staircase leading up from the dungeons before he remembered that he was invisible. Stepping aside into an alcove, he slipped the Marauder's Map from his pocket and quickly scanned to see who else had taken to night time wanderings.

He was just wondering if it would be better to confront the wayward student the way he was expected to, no matter how hypocritical it would appear, or to just let the infraction slide, when he located and recognised the dot. His smile broke into a broad grin as the map told him that Draco Malfoy was making his way towards Harry's current location.

Harry's initial thought was to throw off the cloak and lean casually, waiting to be discovered but, as his fist closed around the fluid material another thought entered his head. What would Draco do in a situation like this? HHH Releasing the cloak, he slid the map back into his pocket as silently as possible and crept towards the top of the stairs.

Draco was only three steps from the top when he stopped suddenly and turned in a slow circle, looking all about him. He tilted his head back; blond hair fell away from his face and the pale skin of Draco's throat seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty in the moonlight.

'I know you're there, Harry,' he said, suddenly causing Harry to jump. As he did so, his foot became tangled in his cloak and he tumbled backward, landing heavily on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs as the cloak slid off his head.

Harry let out a long, low groan at the pain now radiating from his back and he looked up to meet grey eyes that held both concern and amusement.

'Graceful as always, Harry,' Draco smirked, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

'How did you know I was there?' Harry asked poutily, rolling his shoulders to ease the pain in his back.

'I could smell your cologne, idiot,' Draco said affectionately. 'Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me that the Wizarding World decided to put their faith in _you_ to save us all from a maniac.'

'Well, that's me cured,' Harry said indignantly. 'Here I was, creeping about because I couldn't stand to be away from you but the moment I run into you, you go right back to insulting me; I think I'll just go back to bed alone,' he huffed, but even he wasn't convinced by his performance.

'Aw, poor you, so very, very hard done by,' Draco mocked gently.

Thrusting his chin in the air with as much drama as he could manage, Harry span on his heel and stalked back down the corridor away from his boyfriend. Pausing next to a tapestry which hid a secret staircase, he finally turned to look back at Draco, who was gazing at him with wide 'wounded puppy' eyes and a small pout on his face; Harry's heart melted despite the deliberate manipulation.

'Are you coming or not?' he asked and was rewarded with Draco's most winning smile as he jogged to catch up.

'Hurry up!' Draco whispered, as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet to stave off the cold whilst Harry let them into the suite.

As soon as the door was open they both rushed through and darted across to Harry's open door, eager to gain the warmth of the bedroom. Draco dived into bed straight away, burrowing up beneath the covers in a most undignified way and pulling the blankets up tightly under his chin.

'Hurry up, Harry, I'm fucking freezing,' he whined, as Harry took a moment to fold and replace his cloak and map carefully in his trunk.

Sliding beneath the covers he barely had time to settle before a very cold Draco was wrapping around him, leeching away his warmth.

'Fuck!' Harry yelped as very cold fingers slid under his pyjama top and pressed themselves to his torso.

'It's your own fault,' said Draco matter-of-factly. 'If you didn't run so hot I wouldn't be able to warm my hands on you,' he said, pressing his cold nose against the side of Harry's neck.

'I can think of another way to warm you up,' Harry said, in what he hoped was his most alluring voice as he rolled to face Draco. What he hadn't expected was for Draco to fall into fits of silent giggles.

'What?' Harry asked, rather affronted at Draco's sudden amusement. Draco, however, simply buried his face into Harry's neck and continued to shake with paroxysms of laughter.

'What? Harry asked again, beginning to smile, not knowing what Draco was giggling at but starting to find his laughter infectious.

'I'm sorry,' said Draco, gasping for breath. 'But that was so fucking cheesy.'

'Hmph,' said Harry, rolling away and folding his arms somewhat awkwardly.

'I'm sorry,' Draco said, still not quite suppressing his giggles. Harry still didn't relent, however. 'Oh, come on, Harry, I really am sorry.' Placing a hand on his shoulder he rolled him back. Harry put his best possible pout in place and was pleased to see Draco's face soften.

'I was trying to… y'know,' Harry said slowly, feeling his indignation slip away.

'I know,' Draco said quietly, dipping his head to capture Harry's protruding bottom lip gently between his teeth and running his tongue against it. He pulled back just long enough to ask, 'Do you forgive me?' before kissing Harry again.

His lips were firm and unrelenting against Harry's, tongue pushing down into Harry's yielding mouth. When he pulled back again, Harry's brain was slightly fuzzy from lack of oxygen and heightened sensation. He knew that he was supposed to be answering a question but he couldn't quite remember what it was.

'I'm sure you could convince me,' Harry said, uttering the first thing that popped into his head and hoping that it was an appropriate response.

'I'll do what I can,' Draco said breathily, before kissing Harry once more and he ceased to think at all. Draco's hands were everywhere, sliding under Harry's shirt, teasing nipples and tracing shapes on his stomach. Harry was aware of Draco straddling his thighs as Draco's mouth left his and began kissing down his neck and chest.

A wet tongue slid down his torso before the warm mouth latched onto his hip to suck lightly at the sensitive skin there. By the time Draco slid his fingers along the length of his cock, Harry was aching to be touched and he couldn't stop himself from thrusting up into Draco's fist as long fingers curled around his length.

Fisting his hands in the sheets, Harry screwed his eyes tightly closed, unable to stand the sensation but not wanting it to stop for a second. Draco dragged it out, switching between long hard strokes and short quick ones and the occasional swipe of his tongue over the tip. Soon Harry was left breathless and moaning as Draco repeatedly brought him to the edge, only to change rhythm and start again.

When the hand was suddenly removed, Harry's eyes snapped open. Draco sat over him, a picture of beauty. His pale skin glowed in the low firelight and his hair shone and rippled as he shook it from his face. His eyes burned like hot coals, full of lust and longing as they pinned Harry to the spot. Draco shifted above him, shuffling up Harry's body until he was level with his waist.

Draco placed two fingers against Harry's lips and stroked them gently until the damp flesh tingled lightly from his touch. Pressing down gently, Draco encouraged Harry to take the fingers into his mouth. Harry complied, sucking on the fingers enthusiastically.

Slowly, Draco tugged his fingers free, releasing them from Harry's mouth with a slight pop and Harry watched as Draco reached behind himself. Harry could not see what he was doing but he could guess, and he looked on, enraptured, as Draco's eyelids closed and he arched his back at his own invasive touch.

After long moments, Draco's eyes opened and he once again locked gazes with Harry as he continued to fuck himself on his fingers. Harry longed to grasp hold of himself and bring himself to climax as he watched Draco writhing so wantonly above him.

Harry wasn't sure whether this desire was obvious on his face or if Draco was as eager to move forward as he was, but it didn't matter because moments later Draco had removed his fingers and was taking hold of Harry's cock, positioning it at his entrance. It was here that Draco paused for a moment, quirking an eyebrow slightly at Harry, seeking his permission to continue. Harry only needed to give the slightest nod of his head before Draco was sliding downwards, surrounding Harry's cock with his impossibly tight heat.

Draco bit down hard on his lower lip as lowered himself onto Harry. Harry was caught somewhere between concern that he was causing Draco pain and a desire to thrust upwards, sheathing himself in Draco completely. Instead, he opted for remaining totally still, deciding with his admittedly incapacitated brain power that it was best to let Draco stay in control for now.

Slowly, the look of discomfort on Draco's face melted into one of pleasure and he began to move, sliding Harry in and out of him with relative ease. If Harry had thought it felt good before, this was nothing in comparison to how it felt now. Grabbing hold of Draco's waist, he began to snap his hips upwards to meet Draco's downward thrusts.

A low guttural moan started in Draco's throat at this and he threw his head backwards, placing his hands over Harry's. Draco guided one of Harry's hands forward until his palm was pressed against Draco's cock. Harry closed his fingers around the warm hard flesh and began to match his strokes to Draco's.

It did not take long for the heat to begin to pool in Harry's belly and electricity began to rake along his spine. Then, above him, Draco was arching into his hand and his release was splashing onto Harry's chest. The spasms of Draco's orgasm tipped Harry over the edge as well and he pressed his hips upwards, lifting Draco slightly as he emptied himself into his boyfriend.

Still joined, Draco collapsed down atop Harry and both boys lay there for a moment, sweaty, sated and buzzing as they waited for their thoughts to return to them. Harry's brain was warm and fuzzy. His entire existence narrowed down to only warmth and pleasure and Draco.

Draco was now sprawled out across him like a blanket. He wasn't even sure that Draco was still awake. The deep, slow breaths that skittered across his bare shoulder certainly sounded like those of someone who was sleeping.

He wasn't even sure why he cared if Draco was sleeping or not; it wasn't like Harry wanted him off or anything. As far as he was concerned, Draco was welcome to use him as a mattress for as long as he liked.

'I think I've died,' Harry was able to mutter at last, and he felt Draco begin to shake as he chuckled slightly.

'Well, I shall take that as a compliment,' Draco said with a lazy smirk.

The break in the silence seemed to call for a quiet scramble of activity on Draco's part as he rolled off Harry, ran a quick Cleaning Charm over them both and dragged up the blankets before nuzzling into Harry's side.

Rolling, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him closer and inhaling Draco's familiar and comforting scent.

'That's better,' he mumbled, unsure if he was saying to himself or out loud.

'I completely agree,' Draco murmured, stroking Harry's hair out of his face and looking at him intently.

Harry wanted to ask him what was wrong, what he was thinking about, but sleep was closing in, pulling him down . Still, as he succumbed, he was certain that he heard Draco speak. In the future he would swear that he had imagined it, because it was obviously just wishful thinking that Draco had chosen that exact moment to tell Harry that he loved him.


	15. Chapter 14 Time to Think

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry or Draco but I do now have access to a copy of Half Blood Prince and a pause button which is a reasonable compromise.

As always masses of thanks to Saras_girl who kept prompting me to write so that I was able to get this out only 24 hours late.

This chapter is dedicated to Veritas and her reviews of awesomeness.

Also need to say right now that there will not be a chapter next week. With all the Christmas craziness I was barely able to produce this one so I think aiming to post one on Christmas Day would require a level of determination I just don't possess. So Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah or Ripping Annual Present Giving and Overeating Day I shall see you all in 2010.

Chapter 14

Time to Think

_Lying in the Depths of your imagination_

_Worlds above and worlds below_

_The sun shines on the black clouds hanging over the domain_

_Even when you're feeling warm_

_The temperature could drop away _

_Four Seasons in One Day – Crowded House _

The first few grizzled sobs broke through the haze of sleep and Draco opened one bleary eye.

'What time is it?' Draco asked, trying not to whine as Harry rose from their bed and dragged on a pair of jeans.

Opening both eyes experimentally, Draco saw that the room was bathed in the half light of a grey October dawn and he groaned slightly.

'Early,' Harry confirmed. 'Go back to sleep.' And he leaned over to brush a light kiss over Draco's temple.

Draco smiled as he inhaled the warm, sleepy scent of Harry and it was only the fact that Teddy's cries were rapidly growing in volume that prevented him from shooting out a hand and tugging Harry back into the warmth of the bed.

The door clicked softly as Harry left the room and moments later Teddy's cries ceased as the monitoring charm was removed.

Draco closed his eyes with every intention of following Harry's advice and sliding back into sleep. After all, it had been one hell of a first week back. He'd started feeling apprehensive about it a full week before they were due to return to Hogwarts and the apprehension only increased the closer they came to the date.

Harry, too, was clearly being affected by their imminent return and had started to become easily distracted by anything at all. Several times Draco had been trying to explain something Potions-related to him as they were scanning their curriculum for the coming year and Harry had begun to gaze off out of the window only to jump when Draco laid a hand lightly on his arm to regain his attention.

Draco had never been quite sure where Harry went during these little forays into his own mind; whether he was anticipating future troubles or was stuck turning over the echoes of the past was a mystery to him as Harry never talked about it. When his attention was reasserted, he would always look at Draco with a warm smile on his face but as he stared off into the distance one more time, he looked so haunted that a shiver would travel down Draco's spine.

Draco himself was in a quandary as to what to do. He could insist that Harry talk about what was on his mind but this left him with several very real problems. The first of these was his concern over not wanting to be _that_ type of boyfriend. The sort of person to whom nothing was private, not even the thoughts that were carried in one's head.

He had seen incessant nagging destroy more than one healthy relationship and the paranoia and lack of trust an insufficient answer, however truthful that answer might be, could generate.

The second problem came not from Harry thinking his privacy was being invaded but from the possibility that he might actually open up to Draco. Harry's life had been unbelievably hard up to this point. Draco vaguely knew the plot, knew about the physical hardships he had endured, such as loss and torture and death. Still, he had no idea what kind of mental scars that might have left upon him. Being the bearer of a fair few issues himself, he could only imagine the level of psychological damage that Harry had been left with. The question was: was he really equipped to deal with that?

If he asked Harry what was wrong and Harry told him, would he be any use at all? Were he to fail halfway through, were he to run out of answers, he would surely end up doing more harm than good. Of course, if Harry refused to tell him, that would also cause problems. He knew that he would hate himself for it but still he could not guarantee that were Harry to choose to keep his secrets to himself, Draco would not become disheartened himself, sliding into self doubt about the amount of trust Harry was willing to place in him.

Propping himself up, Draco punched the pillow violently before flopping back down again. Rather than becoming lighter as dawn crept closer, the room actually seemed gloomier now than it had been before he'd closed his eyes. The first rattle of the window pane as the wind began to whip violently about the house, and the heavy splat of rain against the glass explained the dim light and Draco snuggled deeper below the duvet, away from the imagined chill, wondering why sleep was still evading him.

He knew he should be asleep; since he'd been back at Hogwarts he'd managed to get only the patchiest of rest. It had been two in the morning on their first night back before he had given up trying to sleep in his own bed and sought out Harry's room. He knew roughly where the Head Boy and Girl's rooms were but had no idea what he was going to do once he arrived there. A small smile crept across his face as he realised that Harry's recklessness must be starting to wear off on him a little.

Draco had sprung from his bed and begun traipsing through the school with nothing more on his mind than getting to Harry. He hadn't even considered that the entrance would be passworded and that, had he not met Harry along the way, he would have ended up standing in an icy third floor corridor, staring at a wall bearing photographs of Head Boys and Girls past.

As it turned out, he'd been lucky, and he'd discovered Harry as he climbed the stairs from the dungeon. Still, despite that, they hadn't gotten much sleep that night. Draco smirked as he remembered the look of bliss on Harry's face as they had taken their relationship to the next level.

He remembered the gratifying feeling he had received the following morning when the delayed _Tempus_ charm had gone off at six am to inform Harry it was time for his run, only for Harry to shoot out a hand, groping for his wand to bring an end to the flashing golden numbers before rolling over and wrapping himself around Draco.

Sadly, that had been the high point to the week. The low point had been his first lesson with Cannock.

Most subjects saw Draco sitting next to Harry with a few notable exceptions. In Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy he had been surprised when Hermione had, without preamble, pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. Usually she sat next to the Weasel, but Ron did not attend these classes. Draco wanted to claim that it was because he lacked the mental fortitude to cope, but since Harry didn't take them either, he restrained himself.

He had found working alongside Hermione to be exceptionally stimulating; he'd always known that the girl was bright but as they slid into a debate about whether the Anglo-Saxon rune Calc was more of a positive of negative rune he'd realised that 'bright' barely scratched the surface.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, saw Draco sitting alone. Hermione was sitting with Ron, and Harry was sitting in front of the fire somewhere, working through the list of people who'd requested to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

There was something about Cannock that had immediately put Draco on edge. It wasn't that he was the one responsible for Draco's isolation in the class, though without doubt, that failed to endear him to Draco. It wasn't even that Harry had a particular dislike for the man who had been too intimidated to teach him.

It was something about him personally. The man had an oily smile and a simpering air which faltered when he informed the class that they would be working on producing Patronuses and he discovered that at least seventy-five percent of the class already knew how to produce one.

'_Oh, wow, isn't that impressive?' he'd said, quickly recovering himself. 'Well, we'll spend some time going through it for the few of you who aren't quite there yet,' he'd said in a patronising tone, with a sneer at the small number of Slytherins who had failed to raise their hands._

_The man practically blanched when he asked how it was they'd come to learn such advanced magic and, with one voice, the class had answered:_

'_Harry taught us.'_

'_Well, that's just wonderful, isn't it?' he said, simpering once more, 'but since Mr Potter is not a Ministry-approved professor, you will of course allow me to make sure that he has taught you the correct method. In addition, for NEWT, it will be necessary for you to know the theory behind how one produces a Patronus, and so, for homework I would like you all to give me three feet of parchment on this subject.'_

_At this, Draco was unable to stop himself from groaning and sinking down to rest his head on folded arms. This was quite enough to qualify Defence Against the Dark Arts as his least favourite subject, but apparently, Cannock was not yet done. As he moved between the desks, while the students started researching the history of the Patronus, he paused next to Draco, stooping low and speaking in soft tones so that he would not be overheard._

'_You might want to rethink your attitude, Mr Malfoy; you are lucky to be here at all, so just watch your step.' _

_Draco had been seething with anger by the time he stomped in to Harry's room, flinging his satchel onto the sofa._

'_Draco? What is it? Harry asked, dumping his pile of parchments onto the table and stepping over to peer concernedly into Draco's face. Immediately, Draco had felt embarrassed. What Cannock said was true after all, he was lucky to be there and he knew it, but there was something about the vaguely threatening way the man had said it that made Draco's skin prickle with rage. _

'_C'mon, Draco, talk to me, please,' Harry asked, stroking gently up and down Draco's arm. He looked into Harry's imploring green eyes and relented, telling him about the Defence class. _

_Draco watched, fascinated, as each emotion played out clearly on his face. Amusement at the whole class informing Cannock that they were already ahead of the curriculum, irritation at the suggestion he might not have taught them correctly, exasperation at the information that they were going to be forced to do the completely unnecessary theory and, finally, rage when Draco told him what Cannock had said._

'_He said WHAT?' Harry spluttered, his temper rising. He stalked over to where his shoes lay discarded just inside the door, clearly with the intention of storming off somewhere. _

'_Where are you going?' Draco asked, walking across to Harry and laying a hand against his chest. _

'_I'm going to go and talk to Cannock is where I'm going, going to ask him what his fucking problem is,' Harry raged. 'No one talks to you like that.' _

_Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes briefly, suddenly unbearably turned on. Harry's rage, his desire to protect and defend him was so arousing that Draco had no choice but to press their lips together and kiss him passionately._

'_What was that for?' Harry gasped when Draco finally pulled back._

'_Are you calm now?' he asked as Harry looked at him, confused._

'_No,' Harry responded simply, shaking his head._

'_Oh, I was hoping that would stop you from storming off to yell at a teacher.' _

'_Well, I'm still here, aren't I?' Harry said with a small smile._

_Taking Harry's hand, Draco led him back over to the sofa and took a seat._

'_It's not that I don't appreciate you running off to defend my honour and everything,' Draco said once he was curled into Harry's side. 'But I wonder about the acumen of the Head Boy picking a fight with a teacher in the first week, is all.'_

'_Yeah, I know,' said Harry, deflating a little. 'But I'm supposed to be trying to stop the students from behaving like that; I shouldn't have to battle against the teachers as well,' he said, and Draco could feel his breath tickling across the back of his neck as Harry held him close. _

'_It's okay, Harry, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself; it just caught me a little by surprise, is all,' Draco said, stroking his fingers soothingly across Harry's chest. _

_In retrospect, Draco wished that he hadn't let on to Harry about the prejudices of the new Defence professor. If he'd have thought about it more carefully he would have simply told him how ineffective a teacher he was going to be and left it at that. As a result of his little over-share, Harry would pretty much snarl whenever he and Cannock inhabited the same space._

_On the Wednesday evening, immediately following the Defence class, Draco sat at the Slytherin table, unable to stop himself from looking at Harry. Harry was paying no attention at all to his toad in the hole and was stabbing at his sausages viciously whilst glaring at Cannock._

_The focus and the intensity of his dislike was so strong that he appeared to be radiating 'fuck off ' vibes and he failed to notice as his fellow Gryffindors edged away from him. _

_Draco watched, his meal forgotten, as Harry's anger became palpable. He was certain that at any moment Cannock would simply melt under Harry's gaze. That at any minute Cannock would feel the dislike focused entirely on him and look up, meet Harry's eyes and spontaneously combust._

_That did not happen. What did happen was that the moment Cannock grasped his water glass, it exploded in his hand, showering him with glass. As the teachers messed about, cleaning up the glass and drying soaked robes, Draco slid from his seat and crossed the Great Hall to where Harry sat with a good two feet of space surrounding him on each side. With a gentle tug on his elbow, Draco guided him from the Great Hall._

_A quick call to one of the Manor's house-elves and dinner was served in the lounge; they ate in silence, Draco eyeing Harry wearily until: _

'_I haven't lost control of my magic like that in years,' Harry told him as he pushed his peas unenthusiastically around his plate. 'I was just so angry at him and I felt so impotent.'_

_Deciding that Harry had clearly finished with his meal, Draco pulled him to his feet with a smirk._

'_I can think of something that will make you feel a lot less impotent,' he said, tugging Harry towards the bedroom._

'You're still awake,' said Harry from the doorway, dragging Draco from his thoughts.

'Sharp as a tack, you,' Draco responded, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at Harry. Harry stood, framed by the light from the hall, looking absolutely divine.

Faded jeans hung low on his narrow hips and the smooth plains of his bare chest practically glowed in the candlelight. The whole image was softened by the baby sitting on his hip, who kept reaching up to try to grab hold of Harry's shell necklace, only to have his hand batted away. This in itself made Draco smile. Harry would sit peaceably whilst Teddy played with his glasses or pulled his hair, but the moment that curious little fingers reached out for the necklace which Draco had bought for him, they would be carefully disentangled lest any damage befall it.

'I just thought you would have gone back to sleep straight away,' Harry said, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed and running his free hand across Draco's hair, smoothing it away from his face.

Harry's cool fingers felt delicious against Draco's warm forehead and he craned his neck into the touch.

'I've been drifting in and out,' Draco responded, closing his eyes blissfully as Harry continued to stroke his hair.

'Teddy's being very fussy this morning, doesn't want to be left alone,' Harry explained. 'If you'll watch him for a bit, I'll go and make us some coffee,' he offered hopefully.

There had been a time when Draco would have extracted all sorts of additional favours from anyone asking for a favour, no matter how little he minded doing it. That, however, was not the Draco who was lounging in Harry Potter's bed on Sunday morning.

'Pass him over,' Draco offered, shuffling until he was sitting comfortably against the pillows and Harry gratefully offloaded the child into Draco's arms. Teddy settled immediately into Draco's arms, his hair slowly growing lighter until it was bright blond. He stuck a tiny thumb in his mouth and drifted off to sleep again.

'Typical,' Harry huffed slightly. 'Well, obviously it was you he wanted.'

'You say that like you are surprised, Harry. I would have thought you would have realised by now that everyone wants me.' Draco summoned his most haughty look but was only able to keep it in place for a few moments before they both began giggling.

'Shhh,' Draco scolded lightly. 'You don't want to wake him. Now go get my coffee.'

'Ja, mein Fuhrer,' Harry said, leaping up and Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

'Muggle thing,' he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 'I'll be right back.'

Once again the room was silent and Draco slid lower into the pillows, resting baby Teddy against his chest. The child's warm weight was comforting and the rhythmic little puffs of his breath were relaxing. Draco's eyelids slid closed as once again he drifted on the edge of sleep.

_The experience with Cannock had left them both feeling a little unsettled and this shifted into apprehension as they made their way down to the dungeons on Thursday._

_Admittedly, Professor Foley didn't look anywhere near as unpleasant as Cannock, but appearances were frequently deceptive. They made their way towards the front of the class, occupying the desk that Draco had once shared with Blaise and putting as much distance between themselves and Ron as humanly possible. _

'_Right, people, I'm professor Foley and I'm going to be prepping you for your Potions NEWT.' Professor Foley was emerging through the door from the Potions Master's office, carrying a stack of books that completely hid her from sight. Immediately, Harry was off his stool and lifting half of the books away. With a small smile and a shake of his head, Draco followed him relieving her of the rest of the books. _

'_Thanks, lads,' she beamed and then, 'one of each to everyone if you don't mind.'_

_Draco noticed when Harry approached Weasley and Hermione's desk nervously and he also noticed that the Weasel refused to even look at him as Harry passed two volumes to Hermione. In retaliation, when Draco came to give them their books, he approached the desk from the other side, dropping both weighty tomes directly onto Weasley's fingers. He yelped and started shaking his fingers wildly as he glared accusingly up at Draco. _

'_Oops, butterfingers,' Draco exclaimed, with a smirk that just dared Weasley to make a big deal out of it, before moving on to the next table and making a show out of being a lot more careful._

'_Right, today I'm going to assign you each two potions,' began Professor Foley from her perch on the edge of her desk, the moment Harry and Draco were seated once more. _

'_There is one potion from each book. Neither will take more than an hour to brew but one is quite straightforward and the other quite fiddly. You may have made these before, I don't know, but the point here isn't so much to teach you something new as to teach me something new. I need to know what level you are all performing at, so I will need you to work individually. I also ask you not to help the person next to you in any way. This isn't a test and you aren't being marked, but if you help it may give me a false impression of that person's ability and that will not help them in the long run._

'_I'm also not going to give you any instruction on what order to brew them in. Good potion making includes a healthy degree of time management, in the same way one might make a roast dinner,' she explained and Draco saw Harry cock his head thoughtfully. 'Page numbers are on the board, begin.' _

_Carefully, Draco thumbed through the books to the right pages and came across the potions. One was a very simple Dreamless Sleep potion that anyone could make as long as they were patient enough. There was a long steeping process in the middle of the procedure that, if rushed, could make the potion ineffectually short-lived. _

_The second was a Thought Share potion, which tended to be used for group initiatives so that a team could brainstorm an idea all at the same time. This one was very fiddly, with very precise measurements that needed to be added at very specific points before being left to simmer. _

_Draco immediately saw what she meant about time management. If one did it correctly then they would prepare the Dreamless Sleep and leave it to steep whilst making the Thought Share, then finish the first whilst the latter was simmering over a low flame. If one did not do it correctly, they would be completing their second potion during their lunch break._

_Draco immediately felt his admiration for Foley increase. This was a very carefully laid out experiment to challenge every skill a good potion maker needed. He glanced over at Harry, who was studying the methods hard, and hoped against hope that he wouldn't be spending his lunch break alone. It seemed, however, that Foley's comment about the roast dinner was exactly the thing Harry had needed to make the connection and he was scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment the times that each step of the process would need to be done._

_Reassured that even if the potions weren't amazing, at least he would be finished on time, Draco set about gathering his ingredients and preparing them._

_Both he and Harry had finished the first part of the Dreamless Sleep potion and were well immersed in the making of the second when Foley appeared beside their desk. Focus sharpening even further, Draco ground down the Abalone to powder and added it at the exact right moment, delighted to see his potion turn a deep shimmering turquoise colour before chancing a glance at the professor, who was standing just to his left and beaming._

_She spent a lot longer watching Harry. Draco could see her out the corner of his eye and her face clearly displayed a level of interested bemusement. He really wanted to be able to lean over and take a peek inside Harry's cauldron to see what was so interesting, but his own potion had hit a difficult patch, requiring specific numbers of stirs and, were he to look away now, it would definitely show when the final potion was handed in._

_Eventually, the bell sounded for lunch, just as he and Harry were flasking up their potions. He glanced at the two small bottles sitting next to his own on his desk, wanting to see how Harry had done. The Dreamless Sleep was nearly perfect, just a shade or two darker than his own lilac potion. There would be no doubt that the drinker would get a good night's sleep but there was a likelihood that they would rise with a bit of a headache the next morning._

_The Thought Switching Draft was supposed to be a pale green colour and Harry's was a milky white. It would work but only just and the experience would likely be very confusing for the participants as the green colour was created by the peppermint that allowed the drinker to focus their thoughts. Without it, the users would go in to organise a new schedule for the Knight Bus and emerge having planned the fifth birthday party of their supervisor's little girl. He wasn't quite sure how Harry had achieved it, however. It wasn't a common mistake. The common mistake was to overdo it to the point where the drinker would work out all the details and fail to concentrate on the big picture._

_They wandered up to the front of the classroom, not five minutes after the bell for the end of the lesson; only Hermione and Nott joined them. Foley received Draco's potions with a broad smile._

'_You are without a doubt one of the most talented potion makers I have ever seen, Mr Malfoy. Good job,' she said, scribbling a note onto a little yellow square and sticking it to the front of Draco's vials. Trying not to look too smug, he retreated to his own desk, delighted that the position put him in an idea place to overhear her comments to the other students. _

_Hermione was told that she clearly had a firm grasp of the theories and the techniques but that some of the more complicated potions would pick up on the aura of the brewer so it was important for her to relax more when she was preparing them. Nott was told that if he managed to get a hold on his impatience then there was nothing he couldn't achieve. When she got to Harry, Draco leaned further forward over the desk, making a grand show of wiping the surface clean._

'_Mr Potter, well done,' she smiled. 'You are one heck of an instinctive potion maker, Harry; I think you can achieve great things with just a little more precision.' Harry beamed at this clearly delighted but Foley wasn't finished._

'_It's like…' She paused, searching for the analogy and apparently trying to summon it with her long, graceful hands. 'In cooking, you need different skills for making a Spaghetti Bolognese and for making bread,' she explained. 'You need a basic set of skills for both but if you throw out your recipe and try and make the spaghetti by feel taste and smell you will probably end up with something that is better than the recipe could have hope for. But with bread…'_

'_You have to follow the instructions or it won't rise,' Harry interrupted. 'I see what you're saying, Professor, thank you,' he said, flashing her his broadest grin._

'_That's what I'm here for,' she said, returning the smile. 'Now, off you go, I think Mr Malfoy is waiting for you,' she added and turned back to her little yellow pad._

Harry had been very impressed with Professor Foley and had talked at length over lunch about the similarities between potion brewing and cooking and how amused he was that she used something called Post-it notes. Draco had teased that Harry might have a little bit of a crush on her, which finally shut Harry up. The silence, however, had brought with it more of Harry's pensive moods and as soon as they had finished their food, Draco ushered Harry from the Great Hall and out into the grounds.

Luckily, Draco had not needed to worry this time about whether or not to address Harry's sullen mood. As they crunched through the leaves on the lakeshore, shoulders hunched against the biting wind, Harry had started to talk.

'_I feel really guilty. Like I should hate her or something because she's not Snape. Or that I'm being really unappreciative of Snape's efforts,' Harry said. Draco watched as he kicked a pile of leaves into the air and the wind caught them to send them soaring out over the lake._

_Shooting out a hand, Draco gripped Harry's arm lightly, forcing him to pause and look around at Draco._

'_You really believe that, don't you? You really believe that by learning from a new teacher you are disrespecting Sev?' Draco asked, trying to see into Harry's eyes through the fringe which the wind was whipping into his face. _

_Harry shrugged and offered a mumbled reply that was carried out over the lake._

'_You really are a fool. You know what he would say if he would here, don't you?' Draco asked. Harry shrugged again and Draco cleared his throat pointedly before launching into his very best Snape impression, which he knew for a fact was a good likeness. 'Not everything is about you, Mr Potter; contrary to popular belief you are not the centre of the universe, you arrogant brat. Let someone else repeatedly bang their head against the wall trying to get through your thick skull, I am glad to be rid of you all. Except for Mr Malfoy; he was always exceptionally talented.'_

_Harry chuckled warmly and his smile broke apart the brooding expression. He shoved Draco gently. _

'_I can't believe you had the balls to call me arrogant.' Harry smiled and then, seriously again, 'How can you joke about things like this?'_

'_For one, I didn't call you arrogant, Professor Snape did; I was just acting as his messenger,' Draco said, holding up one finger and then, adding a second,' and we have to laugh, we have to remember people as they were, for the way they made us laugh, or cry, or want to hex them because when it comes down to it, that's the only way we can be remembered, by the way we touched peoples lives.'_

'_When did you get so wise?' Harry asked and it was Draco's turn to feel a little sad. _

'_I've always been wise, Harry, it just took you a while to catch on,' Draco said, lightening the tone once more and then with a cheeky grin, 'After all, you are a bit thick.' _

_With a growl of amused outrage, Harry made an attempt to grasp Draco around the waist. Draco, however, skipped lightly out of his grasp, poking out his tongue before darting away, delighted to have lifted Harry from his dark mood. Harry gave chase and Draco quickly began to realise the flaw in this plan. He was quick, there was no doubt about that, but Harry had been doing endurance running all summer and while Draco would always beat Harry over a short distance he did not have the stamina to outrun Harry for long._

_Turning, he raised his hands in submission, expecting Harry to relent and give up the chase. Harry, however, simply dropped his shoulder, grasped Draco around the waist and tackled him to the ground. As they fell, something seemed to flash over Harry's face and he twisted in the air, cushioning Draco's fall with his own body before rolling again and sitting astride Draco's hips._

_It was only when he was lying on his back on the blanket of crispy leaves, Harry astride him with a slightly smug expression on his face, that Draco realised what had happened._

'_You tackled me!' Draco said, shocked. 'After I surrendered!'_

'_I'm going to do a lot more than that,' Harry said, smirking before leaning down to kiss Draco firmly._

Teddy shifted against him and Draco started slightly, coming out of his light doze in an instant. The baby was awake but silent, tiny thumb in his mouth as he regarded Draco with golden, hazel eyes.

'Are you going to be good for Harry while I finish my homework this morning?' Draco asked Teddy, receiving only a quiet gurgle in response.

Draco couldn't ever remember having this much homework in the first weekend of term before, and he had started to become slightly envious of Harry's slightly lighter workload. He was taking every subject but two at his father's insistence. Divination had been of no interest to Lucius Malfoy and despite the fact that secretly, Draco would have quite liked to have taken Muggle Studies, there was no way that would have been allowed.

He was thankful for that now, of course. The way his stomach had plummeted when the new professor had been introduced at the welcome feast had been horrible enough. There was no way he could have comfortably sat in one of those classes knowing exactly what had happened to his predecessor.

Besides, he had plenty of work to be getting on with; the workload from Arithmancy, whilst fascinating, was always time consuming and fiddly and he had actually snapped at Harry the previous evening when he had asked a question about Potions homework during the middle of a particularly difficult calculation.

'_Look, Potter, just because you only have one more essay to finish doesn't mean we're all that lucky,' Draco said coldly. Night had fallen about an hour before and now the rain was hammering against the windows of Grimmauld Place as they sat in the library, surrounded by parchments and textbooks. Harry had spent the last fifteen minutes staring into space and tapping his quill against his bottle of ink and it had really begun to grate on Draco's nerves. When moments later the tap, tap, tap started again, Draco exploded._

'_Would you please fucking stop that, it is unbearably annoying,' Draco snapped and Harry silently placed his quill on his parchment and left the library. Draco managed to maintain his irritation for all of five minutes after he left before allowing his head to fall to the desk with a thump. He should go after him, should make sure that this didn't escalate into something more, he thought, but first he really needed to finish this problem. _

_He was just blotting the ink on his Arithmancy homework when Harry came back into the room, a tray hovering just behind him. Draco looked up at him, bemused, as Harry crossed to the small coffee table in front of the fire and lowered the tray containing tea and buttered toast onto it._

_Draco just continued to look at him in wide eyed surprise. With a light sigh, Harry walked over to him and, taking his hand, tugged him towards one of the wingback chairs._

'_I'm sorry I snapped,' Draco said, suddenly realising that he had to say something. _

'_It's okay, you were just a little stressed,' Harry said with a smile as he handed Draco his tea. 'Hence the study break.'_

'_Thanks,' Draco offered, conscious that he had just behaved like a complete brat. And then, in the hope of reassuring Harry: 'I finished Arithmancy at last; I just have Ancient Runes, Potions and Defence to do now.'_

_Harry thought about this for a moment, his nose scrunching up in the most adorable way and his head cocked on one side. _

'_Why don't I do your Defence essay for you? I know you know the theory, you helped me revise it and since we know it isn't on the exam anyway...' He paused at the look of surprise on Draco's face. 'I mean, I can charm my quill to mimic your handwriting, no one would know,' Harry rushed, clearly mistaking the surprise for something else._

_Draco rose from his chair, extracted Harry's tea cup from his hand and settled himself into his lap, giving him a long, soft kiss._

'_Sometimes I wonder what it is I did to deserve you,' he said, looking at Harry with incomprehension. 'I'm rude to you without any kind of provocation and your response is to make me tea and toast and offer to do my work for me. You are the most amazing, beautiful...' Draco trailed off, deciding that only a kiss would be able to say all the things he needed to at the moment._

_When he pulled back, Harry looked away bashfully. 'I'm only offering so that I can get help on my Potions homework,' he said, trying to deflect the compliments. Draco could only shake his head._

'Croissants,' Harry declared, placing a tray of coffee and pastries on the bed and reaching over to relieve Draco of his babysitting duties.

He sat back against the pillows with his breakfast and watched as Harry laid Teddy on the duvet and proceeded to tickle him and make loud raspberry noises against his skin, which caused the infant to giggle and squeal as his hair shifted between many bright and garish colours as it often did when he was amused.

'What are you two going to do today whilst Andie and I are out?' Draco asked conversationally, hoping to steal at least a fraction of Harry's attention back from Teddy.

'We,' said Harry deliberately as he lifted Teddy above his head, 'are going to make a nice roast dinner for when Nana and Uncle Draco get home, aren't we?' he asked, still addressing Teddy and now rolling him slightly in the air, causing the giggles to get louder. 'Yes we are, Yes we are.'

'You know,' Draco drawled, unable to resist taking the opportunity to mock Harry slightly. 'It's good to see that you've finally found yourself an intellectual equal.'

'Ahh, Teddy did you hear that?' Harry said unfazed. 'Uncle Draco thinks you're smarter than he is.'

Draco choked, slightly surprised by Harry's quick retort, and Harry held Teddy to his chest as he reached over to thump Draco on the back.

'We're spending too much time together, Harry,' Draco said warmly. 'You're beginning to sound like me.'

Draco was sitting in the kitchen, just adding the last couple of marks to his star chart and watching Harry as he prepared the joint of pork for the oven, when Andromeda Flooed in.

'Morning boys,' Andromeda called breezily from the hallway, making her way directly towards the kitchen. They were always in the kitchen for some reason. Draco felt that it was probably Harry's favourite room in the house and all activity seemed to centre there.

'How was he last night?' she asked, heading straight for Teddy and placing a kiss atop his now cherry red hair.

'Fussy,' Harry said assertively and then: 'Do you guys want a coffee before you go?' He wiped his hands on the front of what he called his cooking jeans because he refused to wear an apron.

Draco looked at Andie, deferring to her on this topic; he'd rather just go, but she had been shopping in Diagon Alley that morning and might want to get off of her feet for a moment before rushing off again.

'I won't if you are ready to go, Draco, I'd rather just head off. We can have a catch up over dinner and a glass of wine,' she said, producing a bottle of wine from her black leather handbag.

'I'm ready,' Draco said, rising and sliding into his black wool coat. Harry came over towards him, clearly with the intention of seeing him off but Draco stepped backwards out of his reach. 'You are not putting those greasy hands on my coat,' he said sternly.

With a roll of his eyes, Harry fastened his hands behind his back and leaned forwards to brush just his lips across Draco's cheek.

'See you soon,' he whispered and Draco returned the kiss, lingering for a moment before turning and heading back towards the Floo point behind his aunt.

If Draco had thought the rain was heavy in Central London it was nothing to how heavy it was on the South Cornwall coast. The main lounge of the Sea View Residential Home boasted floor-to-ceiling glass windows which looked out over the sea and the residents' garden. Today, the combination of the rain and sea spray gave the impression that one was looking through a waterfall. The sea outside was choppy and steel grey and it was hard to distinguish where the sea ended and the clouds began.

Narcissa was sitting in a solitary corner, staring absently out of the window. When Draco saw her, his step faltered. He barely recognised the woman before him. Her once austere posture was gone and she sat with her shoulders hunched and her feet drawn up underneath her like a little girl.

'Good afternoon, Cissa,' he heard Andie say, and Draco realised that his aunt had left his side and was leaning forward to brush a kiss against his mother's cheek. 'I brought a friend with me today, Cissa,' she was saying. 'Draco...'

Finally, Draco regained the use of his legs and moved reluctantly towards his mother.

He watched as she raised frightened blue eyes. His mother's eyes had always been beautiful, the colour of a summer sky, but the eyes that looked up at him now were washed out and flat, all of their spark now gone.

'I'm sorry, do I know you?' Narcissa asked Andie, a frown creasing her lined forehead.

'I'm your sister, Andromeda,' she explained gently, as she reached out and took Narcissa's frail looking hand in both of hers, granting a reprieve to the frayed cuff that she had been worrying between her fingers. There was a flicker of recognition in the tired face and Narcissa offered Andie a thin smile.

'And who is your friend?' she asked in a fragile voice, and though Draco wanted to do nothing more than turn tail and run, he stepped forward, taking the proffered hand and pressing a light kiss to the thin, papery skin.

'This is Draco,' Andie explained again, and Draco found himself praying for recognition which never came.

'Draco,' she said absently, 'that's a nice name,' and then looked away. Andromeda spared him a sympathetic look and then launched into an account of her week that seemed to captivate Narcissa, making her appear more alive than she had been before.

Draco watched horrified as, whilst listening to Andromeda's account, Narcissa tugged on a strand of the brittle hair that was hanging loose about her shoulders and began to chew absently on the end of it.

'Draco, why don't you tell Narcissa how you've been enjoying being back at school,' Andie said pointedly, obviously catching the look on Draco's face and hoping to distract him.

'What?' he asked, tearing his eyes away. 'Oh, yes, of course, well... it's been good. We have some new teachers who are very nice,' he lied smoothly, 'and I'm working very hard at all my subjects.'

'And do you have a nice young lady at school?' Narcissa asked warmly. The question was one which you might direct towards a distant cousin who was seen only once a year at the Christmas party and Draco struggled to suppress the shiver he felt at the formality of the question.

'I have someone whom I love very much,' Draco said, deciding to play the pronoun game to avoid either lying outright or getting into a debate about homosexuality with someone who would have forgotten all about it not five minutes after he left.

He smiled as he thought about Harry drifting between pots and pans in the kitchen, stirring and tasting as music blared from the speakers of the CD player and he sang to Teddy. Suddenly, that was where Draco wanted to be, not here with this woman. He had no idea who she was but she wasn't his mother. His mother was gone and had been gone for a quite a while now.

If she'd had the ability to see her own future, he knew that his mother would be horrified at the state in which she had been left and even more horrified that her son had seen her in such a state.

He was grateful when the nurse came to take Narcissa for her lunch and he rose from his seat quickly, eager to return to a kitchen full of love and life and to wash the feeling of despair from his skin.

As they made their way back through the main lounge, all Draco could think about was how much his mother had deteriorated in the month since he had seen her and he decided there and then that he would not be able to cope with any more.

'I can't do this any more,' he whispered to Andromeda as they stood in front of the Floo, waiting for the other visiting relatives to leave.

'I don't think you should,' Andie agreed, somehow knowing exactly what he was talking about.

'She wouldn't want me to see her like this,' Draco said, ignoring the more selfish explanation for his desire to make this the last visit.

'Plus it doesn't really do either of you any good,' his aunt said softly, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

'Will you still...? I really hate the idea of her being alone,' he asked hopefully.

'Of course, Draco,' she said, pressing him towards the fire as the last family disappeared in a rush of green flame.

As he took a fistful of the glittering powder and prepared to throw it into the grate, a sudden thought occurred to him and he turned quickly back towards Andromeda.

'What I said before, about being in love, I haven't – we haven't – I don't want...' he said, stuttering over his words before Andromeda held up a calming hand.

'Your secret is safe with me, Draco,' she assured.


	16. Chapter 15 Throwing Stones

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine 'cept the two professors, they are mine I think that's it though.

A/N: Hey there everyone, I'm back at last. Sorry for the extended break but I thought I'd use the fact that no one was expecting a chapter from me last week to get back ahead of my posting schedule. I hope that everyone had a marvellous Christmas what have you and a magical new year. We are currently experiencing some really heavy snowfall here in the South of England and so it has been the perfect weather to curl up in front of the fire with coffee and cigarettes and write though I think this has been reflected in my work.

This chapter is for Summermoonpaint in recognition of the difficult decision she has recently made, xxx

As always endless love and thanks to my very own Draco Malfoy… Saras_girl.

Chapter 15

Throwing Stones

'_Cause you're everywhere to me_

_And when I close my eyes it's you I see_

_You're everything I know_

_That makes me believe_

_I'm not alone_

_Everywhere - Michelle Branch_

The whole experience of being back at Hogwarts had put Harry's head in a bit of a spin. The castle had been his first real home and, in many ways, it always would be but this term there were many things that weren't quite right and this caused an unsettled feeling to accompany the castle's warm familiarity.

It used to be that using the secret passageways was a decadent thing that would allow him an extra five minutes at breakfast, whilst still making it to Potions in time to avoid detention with Snape.

Now, however, his intimate knowledge of the castle's secrets had become more of a necessity. A small group of first and second years had taken to pretty much stalking Harry and, somehow, remembered his timetable better than he did. What they lacked in numbers they more than made up for in fervour and he quickly discovered that if he ran into them in the corridors between classes he would be lucky to make it to his lesson at all.

Draco was simultaneously amused and horrified by the situation. He was endlessly entertained by the enthusiasm of these students and how uncomfortable their hero worship made Harry. He had been appalled to discover that Harry was at times adding an additional fifteen minutes to his journey between classes in order to avoid the over-enthusiastic band of midgets.

'You must have hit your head on something hard if you think I'm going to walk all that way in order to avoid a few children,' Draco had said, the first time Harry had suggested that they head up to the seventh floor and down the stone stairs which would land them directly outside their dungeon classroom.

From that moment on Draco had insisted that, on the rare occasions that they walked to class together, they would do so along the most direct route. They had been waylaid twice before Draco devised a rather effective method of repelling them. Pushing the sleeves of his uniform up around his elbows, he would stride through the castle at Harry's side, his most disapproving glare on his face and his Dark Mark on display.

Harry had chuckled when a little girl with brown pigtails had first seen it. She had squeaked and blanched before turning tail and running away, taking all her little friends with her, leaving their route clear. The second the last child disappeared at the end of the passage, the glare had been replaced with a grin.

'That was fun,' Draco said lightly. 'Do you think it says something about me that I enjoy scaring children?' he added, screwing his face up in thought.

'I think it says that you are officially my hero for rescuing me from that rabble and that Sev would be rather proud of you.' The smile that he had received for this had been beatific and they had ended up being late anyway after Harry dragged Draco behind the nearest tapestry and kissed him thoroughly.

This was not the only thing that was out of place; the atmosphere at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables at meal times, for example, was uncomfortable at best. Every time Harry sat down to eat he would be assaulted by the shadows of all the people who weren't there, which would leave him with a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach and a disinclination to eat anything at all.

It wasn't helped by the fact that Ron was still treating Harry like a leper and would enter the Great Hall every morning with his sister, each of them shooting daggers at Harry. Hermione would follow after them with a sympathetic smile but would still head down to the other end of the table and sit next to Ron whilst they ate.

Harry couldn't help but feel a little jealous, like Hermione was in some way condoning Ron's behaviour. When he thought about it intelligently, he knew it wasn't the case; he knew that Ron was having problems and that Hermione was trying to do what was best for everyone but it didn't stop him from feeling bitter as he picked at his toast in the morning.

He had almost groaned the first time Neville had sat down opposite him at breakfast, having become so used to sitting alone. Quickly, however, he realised that Neville was excellent breakfast company. Unlike Ron, Neville did not feel the need to fill every moment with mindless chatter. They could sit in companionable silence and when he did speak, his conversation was interesting and involving. Ron had always been something of a monologuer, championing one cause and rubbishing another at length, with no real need or desire for interruption.

When Neville asked Harry what he thought, he was, apparently, actually seeking Harry's opinion and not simply looking for encouragement. Neville's table manners were also far superior and not once had he been forced to view pieces of masticated steak whilst listening to a diatribe about the evils of Slytherin house.

Harry had eventually relented and told Neville what was going on between himself and Ron. He had been reluctant to do so, knowing that Neville was Ron's friend as well; the last thing he wanted to do was to cause animosity. Neville, however, had been outraged on Harry's behalf.

'I can't believe him, he's more of a dick than I thought he was,' Neville exclaimed, pouring tea so angrily that it sloshed from the cup and out onto the table.

'He's having a rough time at the moment, Nev,' Harry offered, trying to calm him. He hadn't seen it happen, but Neville was no longer the nervous and jittery boy he had once known. The round face and wide innocent eyes had been replaced by a strong jaw and eyes that burned with fury. A long scar raked down his face, starting just under his eyebrow and trailing to just below his ear; it gave him a somewhat dangerous look.

'Oh no, poor Ron, I completely forgot that we had to make exceptions for him because he was the only one who went through a hard time last year,' he responded with a level of sarcasm that surprised Harry into silence.

'Seriously, Harry, you deserve to be treated better than that,' Neville said, shaking his head and shooting a disapproving look at Ron.

'I always liked that Ron didn't treat me like I was special,' Harry said quietly, slightly disconcerted by this new more forceful Neville.

'I'm not saying he should worship the ground you walk on, Harry, I'm just saying that there's a way to act like a person and he is not doing it.'

'You sound like Draco,' Harry said with a small smile. Neville seemed to take a deep breath at this and regained a little of his composure.

'Well, I'm glad someone's looking out for you. Though to be perfectly honest with you, I never expected it to be him.'

'He's not so bad,' Harry said, immediately leaping to Draco's defence even though Neville wasn't actually attacking him.

'I know that,' Neville said simply, taking Harry by surprise. 'I never said he was. I was just a little surprised that _you_ managed to figure that out.'

'What do you mean, you knew that?' Harry asked stupidly.

'Well, he and I kind of worked together a little last year,' Neville shrugged. 'He wasn't back at Hogwarts very often, he had other demands on his time,' he added darkly and a shiver rippled through Harry. He remembered the few times he'd seen Draco punished for his failures through the connection with Riddle's mind. Thankfully, Neville didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't say anything about it.

'When he was here, however, Malfoy would help the D.A., he would meet me in secret and let me know what was going on in the ranks and I would report back to the Order,' Neville said simply, stirring a spoonful of honey into his porridge.

Harry was completely dumbstruck by this news. Draco had been helping the D.A. He had been working undercover, passing information to the Order all year and, as far as Harry could tell, he had told no one about it. Why hadn't he mentioned it? It wasn't like they hadn't talked about the war before. Draco had asked for an account of Harry's year and he had given it but he had never mentioned what he himself had gotten up to.

Now he came to think about it, though, Harry wasn't actually certain that he'd ever asked. He had talked about his year at length but had never thought to ask about Draco's year. He'd always told himself that it was because he didn't want to make Draco uncomfortable by making him recount all of the horrible things that had happened to him but he wasn't sure if this was true or not. He may well have just been avoiding the issue, deciding that it was better if he didn't know about the things Draco had been forced to do in return for his survival.

'Why didn't he tell me this?' asked Harry sulkily as he kicked at the floor.

'You'll have to ask him that,' Neville replied, glancing across to where Draco sat at one end of the Slytherin table.

Draco was also being shunned slightly by his house. They were viewing his friendship with Harry with mistrust. According to Theo, the suspicion was that Draco had some kind of nefarious purpose for gaining Harry's friendship and people were trying to stay clear of him, hoping to avoid repercussions when it blew up in his face. The result of this was that Draco, Theo and Millie would sit gathered at one end of the table, avoiding everyone else.

Frequently, Harry had found himself wishing that they could have a table of their own or that they could ask one of the Manor's house-elves to bring them their meals in his room. Draco had been the voice of reason in this instance, pointing out that, were the two Slytherin Prefects and the Head Boy to suddenly stop going to meals, the rest of the school would notice.

The rest of the time, the five of them formed a little gang and they would sit near each other in almost every lesson. Harry had been amused when Draco and Neville had struck up a friendship which seemed to hinge primarily on their desire to bad mouth Ron and Professor Cannock. The two had even taken to sitting next to each other in Defence class with the soul purpose of making Cannock's job as difficult as possible.

'I have detention with Cannock tonight,' Draco announced as he kicked off his shoes and flopped gracefully onto the sofa, placing his feet into Harry's lap. Immediately, Harry began to stroke his thumbs along the arch of Draco's foot, extracting a decadent moan from him.

'What did you do this time?' Harry asked, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

'It was Neville's idea,' Draco exclaimed defensively.

'Mmm hmm,' Harry said, continuing to massage Draco's feet.

'He was telling us that we should be trying to produce a shield Patronus, that it would take years of practice to produce a corporeal one and Neville was getting irritable, so I sent Reynard to stand just behind Cannock's feet and Neville conjured his bear in the middle of the classroom, which scared the crap out of him and he stumbled backwards, tripped over Reynard, and ended up in the large tank of Grindylows he'd acquired for his third year class.'

Harry was snickering by this point. The idea of Cannock dripping wet and fighting with the many tentacled Grindylows was incredibly amusing.

'Wait, who is Reynard?' Harry asked suddenly and Draco blushed slightly.

'My Patronus,' Draco said simply, trying his best to brazen his way through his obvious embarrassment.

'You called your Patronus Reynard?' he asked with a small smirk.

'I will have you know that Reynard is a perfectly suitable name for a fox. _Renard_ is 'fox' in French. And besides, it's a much more appropriate name than Prongs, anyone would think your Patronus was a fork,' Draco said, folding his arms across his chest.

Harry just chuckled at this and leaned forward to kiss the slight pout that had settled on Draco's lips. Slowly, Draco relaxed into the cushions again and Harry resumed his ministrations.

'So, tonight whilst you are enjoying a spectacular Halloween feast, Neville and I will be scrubbing the Grindylow tank and putting them back,' Draco said dramatically, extracting a book from his bag. Harry could do nothing but groan at this.

'Neville too? That means I'm going to have to sit down there and eat on my own,' he sighed and Draco looked up at him apologetically.

'I didn't think about that, sorry,' Draco said, sliding around so that he could cuddle into Harry's side appealingly.

'S'alright. I'll feign a headache and slip out after dinner,' Harry said, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair. He couldn't be irritated at him, not really, he knew that the only reason Draco and Neville had taken to terrorising Cannock was because of the way he'd been treating Harry.

'Why don't you bring Nev back here too, and I'll get one of the Manor's elves to bring us something nice from the feast. I'm sure you'll both be starving after that,' Harry offered, trying to think of something that might rescue the evening. Draco beamed up at him before brushing a kiss against his neck.

'What did I do to deserve such a thoughtful boyfriend?' he asked, nuzzling against Harry's neck.

Harry would have never pegged Draco as a cuddler but as time went on Harry continued to be amused by just how tactile Draco was. He would protest it to the ends of the earth were to Harry to challenge him about it, but there was no doubt that Draco seemed to delight in snuggling. Not that Harry ever would challenge him about it. He was, in fact, rather fond of snuggling Draco and he wasn't going to risk it by pointing it out.

Harry found himself heading down to the Great Hall at least an hour before the feast was due to begin, leaving Draco in the middle of writing furiously as he attempted to finish an Ancient Runes essay before his detention.

He and Hermione had been asked by McGonagall to help with the decorations for the hall and, though he personally couldn't care less whether there was a Halloween feast at all, he remembered how awed he'd been by the elaborate decorations in the first year and knew that the lower years would appreciate the effort.

By the time the clock in the Entrance Hall struck seven and the students began to filter into the hall, Harry was nursing several small wounds received at the teeth of irritable bats and he wanted nothing more than to settle himself at the far corner of the Gryffindor table so that he could slip out unnoticed the moment dinner was properly underway. Had he known how impossible this task was going to be, he would probably have braved Professor McGonagall's admonishments and run straight back to his room.

He had only been sitting in his usual place for a couple of minutes, and students were still taking their seats, when the space opposite him, which was usually taken by Neville, was suddenly occupied. For a moment Harry thought that perhaps Draco had been able to use his gift of the gab to get them both out of detention but he was immediately disappointed. The interloper's hair was long, much longer than Neville's; it was jet black where Neville's was a dirty blond, and the owner of the hair was a lot more female than Neville.

'Harry, do you mind if I sit here?' Parvati asked, sliding onto the bench without waiting for an answer.

Harry wished that he'd been able to issue more than a grunt in response; after all, it wasn't Parvati's fault that his fingers were sore and he was in a grouchy mood; she was probably just trying to be nice.

'We miss you in the common room, Harry,' she said ardently, her spirit apparently undampened by his unenthusiastic response. 'I feel like we haven't spoken in ages.'

This struck Harry as slightly odd. He couldn't remember ever being particularly chatty with Parvati. The closest they had ever come to a conversation was when she had agreed to accompany him to the Yule Ball and that had been such an unmitigated disaster that he had always been too embarrassed to try to talk to her again.

'I guess not,' Harry muttered, delighted when the golden plates filled in front of them and he could allow the food to distract him. He intended to eat with Draco and Neville later so he simply tipped a few chips onto his plate and began to munch on them listlessly.

'Oooh, what did you do to your hand?' Parvati gushed and, too late, Harry realised that he had placed his bloodied fingers on the table, still wrapped tightly in a handkerchief. For some reason his healing spell hadn't worked as well as it usually did and the cuts had refused to heal all the way.

'Let me see,' she demanded and before Harry could return his hand to his lap, she had gripped him around the wrist and was tugging the limb towards her. Harry had to suppress the urge to twist violently out of her grip as he decided that would probably be a massive overreaction.

'Oooh, that looks really sore,' she enthused as she began to caress Harry's hand.

'It's fine,' he insisted, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute as he struggled to slide his hand from Parvati's grasp.

Immediately he began shovelling his chip into his mouth, abandoning all attempts at decorum as he tried to get away as quickly as possible. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on here but he knew that he was very uncomfortable with the way Parvati was looking at him.

'I was wondering if this weekend you might…' Parvati began but Harry, not liking where that statement was going one bit, quickly pushed his plate away and rose from the table.

'I'm sorry, Parvati, I have a bit of a headache, I think I'm just going to head up to bed,' he said, cutting across her abruptly. She looked a little put out for a moment before a small knowing smile began to spread across her face.

'Oh yeah, me too, I'll walk with you, shall I?' she asked, rising from the table.

'No!' Harry barked and then more softly, 'I wouldn't want you to miss the feast,' he explained and, needing to get away from the tenacious girl as quickly as possible, he bolted from the hall.

The Entrance Hall felt blessedly cool and, as the double doors thudded closed, Harry leaned against the stone wall and took a moment to regain his equilibrium. He was so pleased to get away from that situation. Slowly, he began to drag himself up the marble staircase, feeling weary.

He had only just reached the top of the stairs when the sound of chatter from the Great Hall got louder and then died off again, indicating that someone had exited the room.

'Harry, Harry, wait up,' he heard Parvati cry and panic curled in his gut. He couldn't go back to his room now—what if she followed him there? If she was this determined she might not leave him alone.

Making a snap decision, he decided to pretend that he hadn't heard her and turned towards the stairs that led in the direction of the Defence classroom and the reassuring presence that was Draco. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there; all he knew was that he wanted desperately to be wherever Draco was.

He hadn't felt this vulnerable since immediately after Riddle's downfall and he knew it wasn't just Parvati's hounding of him that was causing it. Not that he had any idea what _was_ causing it, but he knew without a doubt that Draco was the solution.

All he had to do was lose Parvati and then he could find somewhere to wait patiently for Draco to finish his detention. Unfortunately, losing Parvati was easier said than done and it wasn't until she managed to predict his appearance in the Defence corridor that he realised she had placed a tracking spell on him. So involved was he in berating himself for his stupidity that he didn't realise Parvati had closed the distance between them before she stepped right into his personal space.

'Didn't you hear me call, Harry?' she asked, her voice a low purr that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up in a most unpleasant way and he took a step back, trying to put a more acceptable distance between them.

'No,' Harry squeaked. 'Sorry.'

'There's no need to be sorry, Harry, I'm here now and we're alone,' she grinned, stepping forward again.

'I should probably…' Harry gesticulated vaguely down the corridor in foolish hope that she might simply let him leave.

'Don't go, Harry,' she pleaded, continuing to step forward as Harry stepped back. 'I've wanted to get you on your own to talk to you since school began,' she explained.

Harry's back collided with the cold stone of the castle wall and he yelped and froze in place as Parvati placed her hands on his shoulders, stepping impossibly close.

'What's going on here?' Familiar cool tones drifted towards him and, as Parvati turned to identify who had interrupted her, Harry took the opportunity to duck out from under her arm and cross to Draco, who positioned himself as a sort of shield between Harry and Parvati.

'I was just explaining to Parvati that I wouldn't be able to accompany her to Hogsmeade this weekend because I already have plans with you,' Harry said quickly, meeting Draco's eyes and willing him to read that there was no way that he had welcomed the situation in which he had been discovered.

'Hmmm,' Draco said, managing to infer such threatening disapproval into that one elongated syllable that Parvati seemed to physically quail before him. Then he turned his glare on Harry and immediately it softened, grey irises flooding with concern.

'Cannock let us out as soon as we'd finished,' Draco explained lightly. 'Do you want to go and work on that Potions project?'

'Sure,' Harry agreed eagerly. 'See you, Parvati,' he added before turning and using all his self control to prevent himself from fleeing down the corridor.

Draco was silent as they walked through the corridors side by side and the lack of conversation was beginning to make Harry nervous. He shot Draco a sidelong glance and felt his stomach twist when he saw anger burning in the grey eyes.

'What happened to Neville? Didn't he want to come back for food?' Harry asked, hoping to gauge the extent of Draco's bad mood.

'He said he had something on,' Draco said shortly, falling back into silence immediately. This was not good. Harry was caught between wanting to get the inevitable row out of the way and wanting to put it off indefinitely.

Not that he had much choice in the matter of course and eventually the photo-littered wall melted away, revealing the heavy door to his room. The important thing to do, Harry reasoned, was to make sure he apologised to Draco before he got a chance to launch into a rant.

'Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't do anything,' Harry offered to Draco's back as he stalked across the common room to the bedroom. Harry's instinct was to follow, no matter how illogical that might be. He knew that if Draco was in a bad mood, the best thing he could do was give him some time to cool off but for some reason that didn't seem like an option at the moment.

'C'mon, Draco, please just talk to me,' Harry pleaded as he trailed into the bedroom. The moment Harry was clear of the door, it was slammed closed and he found himself pressed firmly against the wood as Draco attacked his mouth, tongue demanding entrance and fingers twisting themselves into Harry's hair.

Harry's lungs began to scream for air but he would not pull away, would not give up this intensity for a moment. His head began to swim and he felt his knees begin to sway and suddenly Draco's mouth was gone, moving down his throat to nip and suck at the skin there as his fingers began to tug at Harry's shirt, trying to release it from his trousers.

Harry could do little but hold onto Draco as he was swept along in the moment. Then he was moving, Draco half guiding him, half carrying him to the bed and pushing him down onto his back before resuming his attack on Harry's shirt and kissing him deeply once more.

Harry was quickly losing all sense of self as he gave himself over to Draco entirely. His shirt was gone and his trousers were rapidly disappearing as Draco kissed a scorching path down his neck and across his chest, pausing to suck and tug at the highly sensitized flesh of his nipples before continuing downwards.

His trousers were pulled free and Harry shivered against the chill in the air as it caressed his heated skin. The temperature quickly became the last thing on his mind as hot breath grazed across his freed erection. Seconds later he was enveloped in the hot velvet of Draco's mouth and the clever tongue was stroking along his length and teasing the slit at the top, bringing Harry to the edge of climax quicker than ever before.

Harry couldn't help but feel the loss of Draco's mouth as he hovered on the precipice. Strong fingers quickly closed around him, however, stroking him to climax and, as he spilled all over Draco's hand and his stomach, he could no longer quite remember what it was he'd missed.

Harry lay there, boneless, for a moment, only vaguely aware of Draco trailing fingers through the rapidly cooling stickiness on his stomach. He became much more aware, however, as those fingers continued lower, lower than they had ventured before, and began to circle his opening.

Instinctively, he lifted his hips, allowing Draco better access but he still gasped when one long, slick finger slid inside him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting—pain, maybe; discomfort, almost certainly, but all he wanted was more. More of Draco, more of his touch, and when a second finger joined the first he found himself pressing down against Draco's hand, urging him on.

Harry heard himself issue a long, uninhibited moan as he arched into Draco's touch and the fingers began to move, stretching and twisting until they brushed against a spot that made Harry yelp and a shower of white stars explode behind his eyelids.

Moments later the fingers were gone and Harry opened his eyes, the room sliding slowly back into focus.

'Draco?' he began, not really knowing what he was going to say but knowing that he wanted Draco inside him right now. Draco was kneeling up, removing his clothes, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched Harry with a hungry look in his eyes.

Harry watched as Draco's hands slid over his now bare torso and worked open his trousers, freeing his straining cock. His hands slid smoothly over the firm flesh, slicking it with Harry's previous release.

Draco leaned forward, placing a kiss lightly against Harry's mouth, the previous aggression melting away to be replaced by a sweet tenderness.

'Can I?' he whispered, speaking for the first time since he had discovered Harry and Parvati, and Harry could only nod his assent.

He closed his eyes as Draco rocked back onto his heels, positioning himself at Harry's entrance and bit down on his lip as Draco slid inside him, willing away the burn.

Draco paused, giving Harry a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled for the first time but Harry was in no mood to wait and lifted his legs, wrapping them around Draco's waist and dragging him closer, deeper as he reached out to grip strong shoulders.

Draco needed no more encouragement and began to move his hips, filling Harry over and over. He shifted position slightly and the stars were back as Draco began to brush against that sensitive spot with every long, deep thrust. Harry heard himself call Draco's name, every syllable drawn out. He was so close; everything had melted away, leaving nothing but him and Draco. The smell of sex and salt and peppermint flooded his nostrils and heat radiated over his skin as they moved against each other.

Harry curled upwards, needing to be as close to Draco as possible as he wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, burying his face in the side of his neck.

Draco's movements were becoming more erratic now and small gasps of pleasure were escaping his lips as he thrust faster, harder. The weight on Harry increased as Draco slid one hand between them, curling his fingers around the hardness he found there, matching the strokes to his own frantic thrusts.

Harry cried out as he climaxed and Draco's voice joined his. He felt Draco pulse inside him, flooding him with his own release and Harry bit down hard on Draco's shoulder, surrendering himself completely to the wave of sensation.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, panting heap and Harry clung to Draco, refusing to release him even slightly. He was delighted when Draco returned the embrace, fingers gripping him so tightly that he would still be smiling at the sight of the bruises a week later.

'Mine,' Draco growled into Harry's ear, his voice barely audible.

'Yours,' Harry confirmed as sleep swept him away.

* * *

'Right, I have here a brand new tray of _Calidus Serpens_ seedlings, can anyone tell me what this amazing little plant is used for?' Harry heard Professor Sprout say, though he didn't really acknowledge the question. He was deep in a daydream involving a hot, sweaty, naked Draco.

The subject of his wandering thoughts was not similarly distracted and he knocked against Harry as he raised his hand to offer the answer.

'They are the primary ingredient in a Fever-Reducing Solution,' he said calmly and then when Professor Sprout turned away again to ask another question, he shot Harry a look that told him Draco had been well aware of what he had been thinking about.

'That is correct, Mr Longbottom,' Professor Sprout was saying and Harry, realising that he had no idea what she was talking about now, tried as hard as he could to drag his attention back to the lesson. It wasn't that he was uninterested in the little orange plants but when Draco was sitting next to him, smelling so fucking divine, it was hard to focus on anything else.

'Now, I have recently been informed that we are about to experience an unfortunately timed cold snap, and as these little guys have no means of keeping themselves warm, they are going to require constant supervision,' Professor Sprout was saying.

'I shall be setting them up in Greenhouse Six/ Professor McGonagall has already been kind enough to Transfigure a wood-burner and chimney for us but we are going to need to make sure the ambient temperature is kept at twenty-nine degrees for the next ten days until they are through their poikilothermic stage,' Professor Sprout said, counting up the pairs.

'I'm going to pass round a schedule, if you could write your names next to the night you can do and please, I ask you to be mature about this. We need to be flexible, people, that means if someone can't do a night because of Quidditch practice or another previous commitment. you may have to make a sacrifice.'

She handed the paper to Draco and the class broke into a hushed muttering as negotiations began.

'Do you want to just get this over with?' Draco asked, quill hovering over the space for November fourth.

'Might as well, I have Quidditch tomorrow, we have a Prefect meeting Friday and we aren't here Saturday,' Harry said huffily. He really didn't like the idea of having to spend his night in the greenhouse but at least he would be with Draco; anything done with Draco automatically became that much more enjoyable.

'I have Astronomy tomorrow night, anyway, so that would have been no good,' he mused as he tidily wrote their names in the space.

The skipped dinner that night, deciding that whilst they had a good excuse for not eating in the Great Hall they should use it. Whilst Harry checked the thermometer, stoked the fire and made sure that the plants were positioned close enough to it, Draco summoned one of the Manor elves and had them deliver a variety of picnic-y foods, along with cushions and blankets that would make their evening as comfortable as possible. He also Transfigured a large patch of the concrete floor so that it had the consistency of a firm mattress.

By the time Professor Sprout came to check on them on her way to bed, they had eaten, and finished homework for Charms and Potions. Draco was deeply immersed in a star chart for Astronomy whilst Harry was once again finishing Draco's Defence homework.

The blast of frigid air that curled around them as she opened the door caused them both to shiver. The greenhouse was so cosy that both boys had divested themselves of their jumpers and were lounging around in jeans and t-shirts having completely forgotten about the cold weather outside.

Still, despite the warmth they both gratefully accepted the cups of hot coffee Professor Sprout was carrying.

'Temperature out there has already started to drop drastically, boys,' she said, stepping over to the fire and warming cold fingers. 'And I don't think it's done yet either. I had Hagrid put an extra pile of firewood out the back in case you run short,' she smiled.

'You know,' she said thoughtfully, looking across at where Harry had settled himself next to Draco and was sipping tentatively at his extremely hot coffee. 'Had you two said that you were going to spend an night alone in the greenhouse together two years ago I would have been concerned about whether it would even still be standing in the morning. You've grown up into two remarkable young men.'

Harry dropped his head, blushing furiously. He wasn't certain that Professor Sprout had ever spoken more than three words together to him outside of class and this praise was very unexpected. Luckily, Draco was composed, as always.

'Thank you, Professor,' Draco said, his smile bright as he nudged Harry lightly in the ribs.

'Thank you,' Harry murmured and Professor Sprout chuckled her warm earthy laugh.

'Right, I shall leave you two in peace and I'll be off to bed,' she said, slapping her hands against her thighs and getting to her feet. Harry was unnerved to see a knowing twinkle in her eye as she smiled at the two of them before heading back out into the cold, calling a 'good night' over her shoulder before the door slid shut.

'It's just you and me now,' Draco said, pushing his homework aside and wrapping his arms around Harry's waist to pull him in for a kiss. 'And I want to discover just how remarkable you are.'

* * *

When Harry awoke he was warm and comfortable with Draco wrapped tightly around him. Fumbling around for his jeans, he carefully extracted himself from Draco's embrace and went to check on the thermometer before stoking the fire. Not wanting to disturb Draco by calling for a house-elf, he poured himself a cup of now tepid coffee and applied a Warming Charm to it.

Wiping his hand through the fog on the large windows, Harry peered out into the night. The few lights still burning in the castle above illuminated the snow that was now swirling through the dark sky and silently blanketing the ground.

The cold radiated from the glass and forced a shiver from Harry. He took a large swig from his coffee in retaliation and made a face at the bitter aftertaste that the Warming Charm had provided.

'I've always loved the way Hogwarts looks when it snows,' Draco opined softly from behind him as he pressed himself to Harry's back, wrapping arms around his middle. Harry leaned back into Draco's warm presence and smiled. This was perfect. He couldn't place exactly what it was about the whole thing that made it so; all he knew was that he had never felt such a strong sense of belonging as he did at that very moment.

'I love you,' Harry whispered, without even really thinking about what it was he was saying. As soon as the words had left his lips, however, he stiffened, realising what he had just said. He knew it was true, had known it was true for quite a long time now but this was not how he had planned to say it. Blindsiding Draco with it when they were in a situation where escape was difficult.

'Well, that was something of a non-sequitur, but I love you too,' Draco said softly into his ear as he pulled the coffee cup from Harry's hand and took a sip before pulling the same face Harry had pulled moments before.

'Urgh, that is disgusting,' he said, placing it on the nearest bench. 'I think we need some fresh. Why don't you sort that whilst I go and grab some more wood, we're running a little low.' He nodded towards the pile before stepping away from Harry and beginning the hunt for his sweater.

Harry simply stared at Draco for a moment. He had been certain that this revelation would freak him out but apparently not. Draco was behaving like Harry had said those words to him a million times before. As the greenhouse door slid open and closed again, emitting a swirl of snow, Harry snapped back to himself and summoned the elf.

Maybe the reason that Draco was behaving like his words had been expected was because they were. So, they hadn't said it to each other before, but love was more than a word; it was a feeling of comfort and acceptance that had been present between the two of them for months now. It didn't even cross his mind to question the fact that Draco loved him back; he simply knew it to be true.

'Fuck me, it's freezing out there,' said Draco as he returned, his arms full of firewood and his nose and cheeks pink from the cold. He dropped the firewood into the box and headed over to where Harry was pouring the coffee.

'See?' he asked and Harry yelped as freezing cold hands were placed against his warm torso. It took him a couple of moments to adapt to the temperature but the moment he did he hugged Draco's hands to him, trying to warm the frozen flesh.

'I can't believe you let me get away with that,' Draco said, smirking.

'You're cold and I'm warm,' Harry responded simply, not certain what the big deal was.

'Well, as long as you don't expect me to return the favour,' Draco chuckled, tightening his arms around Harry.

* * *

Harry had wanted to leave before breakfast on Saturday. Unfortunately, this was not to be. It turned out that Draco had a couple of questions he needed to put to Professor Vector. Something they had covered in Arithmancy was bothering him, apparently, and the only time she could speak to him was after breakfast.

Still, it was only for a little while; by midday they would be curled in the study in front of the fire, trying to shut out the freezing weather that was currently gripping the country. Since Wednesday the weather had gotten steadily worse and Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for whoever was staying in the greenhouses tonight.

According to Professor Sprout, keeping the temperature up had become an almost constant battle. At least he and Draco had managed to get some sleep during their shift. He glanced across at where Draco was precisely compiling a bacon sandwich and grinned. He had thought that he'd been content in his relationship with Draco before that night in the greenhouse but the security that had come from that evening was one of the most amazing things he'd ever experienced.

'Morning, Harry,' Neville said, sitting down opposite him and helping himself to boiled eggs. 'What are you doing here? I thought you didn't do Saturdays.'

'Draco needs to speak to Vector, so I thought I'd wait for him,' Harry explained, dragging his attention away from Draco who was managing to eat his bacon sandwich in a disturbingly seductive way.

The fluttering of owls filled the hall as the post swooped in and Neville was distracted for a moment as his _Prophet_ owl landed in front of him, waiting for payment. Harry poured some coffee and waited for Neville to finish faffing about with his money bag.

'Oh shit,' he heard Neville say and when Harry looked across at him he was looking nervously at Harry.

'Neville? What is it?' Harry asked. He didn't need an answer, however. The _Prophet_ was lying on the table on Neville's plate and there in a banner across the top the page, the title '_Weekend Expose_' was flanked by a pair of photographs.

One of himself, the picture that had been taken of him for use on the Chocolate Frog card, the other a picture of Draco which Harry was certain had been taken when Draco had been attending his father's trial at the end of the fifth year, given the length of his hair in the photo. The pictures were accompanied by the sensationalist headline: '_The Truth About The Saviour and The Serpent_.' Harry let out a long, low groan and allowed his head to fall forward onto the table.

Resigning himself to fate, he flipped open the paper to the centre pages where several large colour photos of himself and Draco looped surrounding a large headline proclaiming: _'HOMO HERO,'_ with the subheading: _'The Good, The Bad and The Greenhouse,'_ and then under that, Rita Skeeter's by-line.

'Oh, for fuck's sake!' Harry growled, his ire rising. There were three photos shown. One was of himself and Draco hugging in a corridor before ducking behind a tapestry. The second was of Harry tackling Draco into a pile of leaves before bending down and kissing him. The final shot appeared to be blank at first but photo Harry wiped a path through the condensation on the window and stood there as Draco came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

The actual article was almost non-existent and was full of vague hints about what was wrong with him and why he was seeking comfort in the arms of a Death Eater. Harry became aware that the noise levels in the hall were dropping away as the other students began to unfurl newspapers and gather around them.

Draco was currently unaware of what was going on. He was sitting alone at the Slytherin table and Harry could see the tell tale bobbing that let him know that Draco was listening to his CD player. Sliding the centre pages from the paper, with an apologetic glance at Neville, he got to his feet and made his way over to the Slytherin table.

He didn't need to look to know that every set of eyes was on him, waiting for confirmation of the new gossip which would probably grip the castle until the New Year. When he sat down opposite Draco the grey eyes went wide with surprise but as he looked up into Harry's face, the smile that had appeared at his arrival faltered.

Harry pushed the folded piece of paper across the table towards Draco and waited patiently as Draco unfolded it, a confused expression on his face. Draco paled slightly as he scanned the page and his eyes slid shut against the images before him.

Immediately Harry began to doubt his decision. Should he have perhaps waited until he and Draco were at home? His initial instinct had been to let Draco know about the article as soon as possible; after all, it was better he heard about it from him than some sarcastic comment from a fellow student, but right now Draco looked so distressed that he thought perhaps he had acted carelessly.

Unable to help himself, he reached out his hand, longing to comfort Draco and was delighted when Draco took it and met Harry's eyes, silver irises burning with love and defiance.

Harry felt a huge weight he hadn't even know he'd been carrying lift from him; they were going to get through this and they would do so together, Rita Skeeter be damned. Harry jerked his head towards the exit in a silent question and Draco nodded his agreement.

They rose from the bench as one and walked towards the exit, the attention of everyone in the room focused entirely on them. They ignored every single one of them as they held their heads high and left the Great Hall, hands still clasped together.


	17. Chapter 16 The Good Fight

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me and that is a real shame.

A/N: This chapter is for groolover for her many review and her continued interest, thanks x

As always thanks goes out to Saras-girl for editing this chapter, the amount of time she dedicates to some who has the punctuation problems that I do makes her a true humanitarian, the robin hood of commas if you will.

Chapter 16

The Good Fight

_You had no folks and I'm just a joke_

_But we made a vow_

_That we would never sell each other out_

_A lie detector wouldn't make me doubt you_

_Now we know that it's us versus the world now_

_Me and you versus the world now_

_Look up there in the sky now_

_See the stars that are shining just for us._

_Space- Me and You Versus the World_

The vase flew across the room and exploded in shards of coloured glass as it hit the wall next to the fireplace. Harry hovered in the doorway, a nervous look on his face. Under normal circumstances Draco would be calmed by that look. He would know that the way he was behaving was making Harry uncomfortable and he would rein it in but today that was not going to happen. The red mist had descended and all he wanted to do right now was break things.

What he actually wanted to do was find Rita Skeeter and introduce her to some of the more creative curses that his father had taught him during his adolescence. How fucking dare she invade their lives like this and plaster the details of their relationship across the papers for all to see?

To judge, too, he mustn't forget that. He had fallen in love with someone the Wizarding world considered public property and now everyone would think it was their right to have a say in the matter.

He picked up a small side table and threw it against the floor where it shattered into matchsticks. Harry, who had ventured far enough into the room to perch nervously on the back of the sofa, flinched.

'What the hell is wrong with you?' Draco snapped. 'You don't really think I'm going to hurt you, do you?' He wasn't sure why he was yelling at Harry. They were in this together after all. Harry's life had been invaded just as much as his own had been and, if he were perfectly honest with himself, Harry had been forced to go through this whole invasive process several times and more than once at his own hands.

Still, Harry's flinching was starting to wear on his nerves. Everyone already saw him as a violent thug and Harry behaving like a poor beaten housewife just reinforced this in his head.

'No, of course not,' Harry muttered sullenly.

'Then why the hell are you behaving like a startled deer?' Draco barked and he saw Harry's eyes flick to the door and back.

'I just don't like violence, Draco, okay?' Harry's voice was calm and a little shaky and immediately Draco felt like a heel.

His thoughts flew to his father and how he had always expressed his anger physically. Even if he didn't attack his mother or himself he would attack someone, break something, behave like an oaf. His fury reached a new level of intensity and he punched the mirror hanging above the fire, glass shattering around his tightly clenched fist.

'Draco, please just stop,' Harry yelled.

Draco dropped to his knees with his head in his hands. Blood began to blossom on the cuts across his knuckles and drip steadily onto the marble hearth.

He heard Harry slide from the couch and moments later he was sitting behind Draco, arms wrapped about his shoulders and pulling him backwards to lean against his chest.

He was still angry; he was furious at Skeeter and whoever it was who had taken those pictures, but now he just wanted to cry. Harry gripped his wrist gently and began to clean and heal the wounds, the cool tingle of the magic soothing Draco's anger.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…' Harry began.

Draco span round, covering Harry's mouth with his hand, eyes burning with what he knew were unshed tears.

'No, you don't apologise to me for this. I had no right to act like that, Harry,' he said sternly.

'It's okay, you were just angry,' Harry said, pulling Draco's hand gently away from his mouth.

'No, it is not okay. You shouldn't have to put up with that from anyone,' Draco insisted, his tone weary. 'I shouldn't have let it all get to me, it's just, you know?'

'Funnily enough, I do. I completely destroyed Dumbledore's office at the end of my fifth year, when Sirius died,' Harry explained. He was still holding Draco's hand and was running his thumb gently across his bruised knuckles. 'It doesn't help, though, does it?'

'It helped a little,' Draco said with a small shrug. 'Until I realised I was scaring you and that just made me angry at myself.' A sad smile rested on his lips.

'I knew you weren't going to attack me, it's just –all the stuff with my uncle –I can't help but…' Harry struggled.

'I know you said he was violent,' Draco said, thinking about the way he shivered anytime he heard the clack, clack, clack of a cane against a wooden floor. No matter where he was, he would immediately break out into a cold sweat and begin scanning the room for the nearest exit. 'I'm sorry if I…'

'Let's just forget about it, shall we?' Harry said, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand to Draco to pull him up. 'Do you want tea?'

'How can you be so calm about this?' Draco asked, as he set about repairing the broken furniture.

'I guess I'm just used to it.' Harry explained with a shrug as the vase flew back together and he placed it carefully onto the reconstructed table. 'She's been writing crap about me since I was fourteen.'

Harry led the way into the kitchen and set about making tea as Draco sat sullenly at the table. When he'd punched the mirror, his anger had dissipated but now, as he listened to the comfortable and familiar sounds of Harry making tea, it began to flood back.

He felt like something sacred had been trespassed upon. Here in the kitchen, with the snow falling past the windows once more he was supposed to feel safe, to feel comfortable. However, the photos in the paper had touched on such private moments that he felt completely unable to relax lest the person who had shot the pictures should appear at any moment.

'I hate her, Harry, I really hate her,' Draco murmured when a cup of tea was set in front of him. Harry took his usual seat and reached across the table, covering Draco's hand with his own in a comforting way. 'What gives her the right to say things like that?' Draco continued. 'Now everywhere we go people will be pointing. They already hated me and now I've stolen their Saviour and turned him into raging queer,' he finished, flinging his free hand into the air.

'That's a little dramatic, Draco, you didn't turn me gay, I was already gay well before you came along,' Harry offered and Draco could tell that he was trying hard not to smile which only irritated Draco further.

'You know that, I know that, hell, every right-minded person knows that, but how many of the Skeeter brigade do you think are smart enough to know that?' Draco exclaimed, practically yelling now. He threw back his chair and began to pace the kitchen, agitation flowing through him. He had to make Harry see how bad this was. He had to make him understand that this was no joke.

'These are the sort of people who think that you can chose to be gay, the kind of people who think that gays are trying to bring about the destruction of the Wizarding community,' he assured, continuing his tirade. 'You wait, I give it three months before the conspiracy theory turns up that I am Voldemort's last great weapon, sent from beyond the grave to sully and corrupt their beautiful, chaste hero. You really think that you're going to be able to stick with me though all that crap, Harry?' he said, spinning on his heel to face Harry before turning away and continuing his pacing.

'I don't. I think you are brave and determined but eventually you will realise that being with me is a lot more trouble than it's worth,' he stopped at last, worn out, and slumped against the counter, unable to look at Harry and see the realisation and acceptance that must surely have gripped him by now. He heard the chair scrape backwards and the shuffling noise of socks against tile, before Harry was behind him, arms enclosing him in a warm, reassuring hug.

'I listened to you, Draco, I heard what you said, now I need you to listen to me, okay?' he asked and Draco was pleased that he didn't force him to make eye contact. He thought that were he to look into the green eyes at that moment he would likely burst into tears.

'When I said I loved you I meant it. I don't care what they say about me, I refuse to sacrifice one more thing to do what is expected of me. I will not give you up to make the rest of the Wizarding world more comfortable and allow them to hang onto their prejudices. That's just the way it is, Draco; you're stuck with me now.' Finally, fingers lifted to his chin, curled softly around his jaw and encouraged him to turn his head, to meet Harry's eyes.

'This changes nothing,' Harry reassured, looking at him completely earnestly. 'Okay?'

'Okay,' Draco confirmed, managing a weak smile before Harry pulled him into a tight hug.

'Now, finish your tea and we'll go get Teddy. I'm sure Andie will be dying for us to get there, she's no more of a fan of Skeeter than you are.'

* * *

By the time they Apparated into Andromeda's snowy garden the sun had already sunk below the trees, leaving the sky a slightly mauve colour with a thin sliver of moon already visible in the frosty air.

Making their way through the garden was hard work as the cold snap had left about a foot of untouched snow for them to negotiate. Despite having chosen his most sensible pair of boots the snow was still rising above the rim and soaking Draco's socks and jeans. He paused for a moment considering whether it was worth him magicking a path through the snow or, whether now he was already cold and wet, he should just go with it. Harry was continuing to confidently plough through the snow ahead when he suddenly lost his footing and, somehow, managed to launch himself face first into a snow drift.

Harry remained prone in the snow for a few moments more than was really necessary and concern had begun to wrap itself about Draco as he trudged his way across to where Harry lay, already withdrawing his wand in preparation to levitate Harry to the house if need be. When he reached Harry, he was surprised to see that his shoulders were shaking in silent mirth.

'Harry?' he asked curiously and watched Harry roll over, still laughing hard.

'Well, at least I went down with style,' Harry managed to wheeze out, 'but _ow_!'

'You are completely fucking mental,' Draco offered, holding out a very cold hand to Harry, but starting to laugh himself. He had to admit that Harry had a point. Anyone else would have gone down like a deer on ice, trying all the way to keep their balance. Not Harry, he just launched himself face first into a snow drift.

Harry accepted the proffered hand but suddenly a mischievous grin flashed across his features and Draco wasn't quite fast enough to withdraw his hand before Harry gave a sharp tug and overbalanced him. Draco felt his footing leave him and, resignedly, he put all his effort into falling gracefully.

Before he could gather his thoughts enough to scold Harry, cold lips were on his own and Harry's warm tongue was flicking across Draco's lips, seeking entrance. Briefly forgetting his irritation at Harry's preschool antics, he slid his frozen fingers into Harry's hair and kissed him, trying to ignore the chill that surrounded him and concentrate only on the intense heat of Harry's mouth.

'I just realised something,' Harry said when he finally pulled back slightly. 'I've figured out the upside to this whole article thing,' he explained and Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow.

'Really? Do enlighten me,' he drawled, trying his best to sound unimpressed but knowing that Harry would hear right through it.

'Well, now I can kiss you wherever and whenever I like. I don't have to worry about who might see us or who will find out because they already know.' Harry beamed at him and Draco couldn't help but return the smile.

'Well, I hope you take full advantage of the situation,' he said, aiming for serious but unable to keep the little grin off of his face.

'Oh, don't worry about that,' Harry said, leaning in to kiss Draco once more. 'I fully intend to.'

It was Draco who put a stop to this kiss. The snow had somehow managed to work its way inside his jumper and, as fond as he was of kissing Harry, he wasn't going to end up with pneumonia for something he was certain would be just as, if not more, enjoyable in front of a fire with warm dry clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on hand.

'Come on,' he said, getting to his feet and pulling Harry up after him, whilst bracing his footing against any further Gryffindor impulsiveness. 'Or Andie's going to think we've been attacked by a Yeti.'

They were just stamping snow from their shoes when the backdoor was thrown open and a wave of heat, carrying the smells of wood smoke and coffee, flooded out to meet them. Before they knew what was happening, both he and Harry had been pulled into a tight hug and the door had been kicked closed behind them.

'Merlin's beard, you're both soaked through,' Andie exclaimed, suddenly pulling back and brushing snow from her cardigan.

'Go, dry off, warm up whilst I make coffee, and no dillydallying,' she added with a knowing grin and a wink.

Ten minutes and series of Drying and Warming Charms later, they were back in the cosy kitchen which, they now noticed, was littered with rolls of parchment, several heavy books and the article from the _Prophet_, which was covered in arrows and scribbled notes with certain lines circled and exclamation points next to them.

'What's all this, Andie?' Harry asked, sliding into a chair and turning over a heavy leather book which had several pages marked. The gold writing on the spine glinted in the firelight and Draco read '_Liability in the Wizarding World: Knowing when it's your fault._'

'Well,' she began as she passed around steaming mugs of coffee and settled into her own chair. 'Obviously I read that invasive piece of trash in this morning's paper and it made me really quite angry,' she began. Immediately, Harry felt the need to stop her.

'You do realise it's true, Andie. Rita wasn't lying,' he said, laying his hand over Draco's on the table.

Draco almost laughed at the look on Andie's face at that moment. She looked at Harry with an expression one reserves for someone who is particularly stupid before it slid into one of sympathy.

'Yes, Harry, I do realise that. I was fortunate enough to be blessed with both working eyes and brain.' She shot Draco a look that quite clearly said 'how do you put up with this?' before continuing.

'The point I think I was about to make is that it doesn't matter if it's true or not; it is, without doubt, an invasion of your privacy and she needs to be stopped,' Andromeda enthused, rummaging through a bundle of parchment.

'It isn't like this hasn't happened before, I've just learnt to live with her broadcasting crap about my life. After all, it's not like we can do anything about it,' Harry shrugged dejectedly. Draco wanted to slap him; he really could be incredibly dense at times. Obviously Andie had been researching things that they _could_ do and he didn't even seem to realise that.

'As long as you continue taking that attitude, she'll keep doing it,' Andromeda said shortly, sounding so much like his mother did when she was in a bad mood, that Draco was forced to look twice. She finally extracted the piece of parchment that she had been searching for and placed it in front of Harry with a flourish.

'There are several ways in which we can try to trip her up,' she continued, sounding very businesslike and Draco leaned across to peer at the parchment to which Andie was pointing with the tip of her quill. 'We need to consider how she got the pictures in the first place. She isn't allowed within the school grounds, so she's either been trespassing or someone else has on her behalf.'

'I imagine she's been doing it herself, it wouldn't be difficult for her to do so, she's an Animagus, she turns into a beetle,' Draco mused, allowing himself to be caught up in Andie's enthusiasm.

'Last I knew she was an unregistered Animagus,' Harry added, joining the conversation at last and Andie looked at him like Christmas had come early before scratching down a note to check the Animagus register.

'Also, the things that she's said about the two of you in this article are libellous which means you can sue the paper,' she continued, clearly excited now that she had snagged Harry's interest.

'We really don't need the money,' Harry argued, squirming in his seat a little. They hadn't been very far into their relationship before Draco had become aware that Harry was always uncomfortable when they were talking about money and he worried that this might be a snag in Andromeda's plan. She was not easily dissuaded, however.

'The money really isn't the point,' she countered, disregarding Harry's concerns with a wave of her hand. 'Give the proceeds to charity if you like. The point is that we make it unprofitable for them to publish these horrific excuses for journalism and try and protect Draco's image at the same time,' she finished and Draco was impressed. The woman in front of him was a true Slytherin and a Black; the way she had manipulated Harry into protecting himself by making him think that he was helping others was a master stroke. Still, for once he couldn't help but feel a little guilty that Harry was so clearly out of his depth on this front.

'I don't think my image needs protecting, I think it needs replacing with someone else's,' Draco quipped before shifting slightly, taking a deep breath and adding: 'Besides, there are only so many things that we can dispute, after all I really was a Death Eater.'

'Yes, but you were pardoned of that crime; she is not allowed to call you a Death Eater, no matter how you feel about the situation yourself, there are legal parameters governing the term and to use them incorrectly surmounts to defamation,' she said, flicking open one of the heavy brown volumes to a marked page and pointing to a passage.

'Andie, how do you know all this?' Harry asked suddenly, looking at the older woman with something akin to awe.

'I used to be an attorney. After my mother kicked me out I was determined that I was going to work for a living. My Uncle Alphard decided that he wanted to help and gave me enough so that I could attend the Orolex school. I was good, too,' she said, a small smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes.

'One of the best,' she continued, snapping back to the conversation. 'And I can guarantee that if you let me do this we will win and Skeeter will rue the day she ever decided to try and pass this crap off as news.'

'You are rather scary,' Harry grinned and Draco could tell that he was still surprised that anyone would bother to go to this much trouble for him.

Draco watched as the look changed, as he realised the amount of effort this would require on Andie's part, until he looked dejected once more. This was the part of Harry's personality that infuriated Draco more than anything else, the way he was completely convinced that if he was the benefactor of something then it wasn't worth the effort. It made Draco want to scream.

'We can't ask you to do this,' Harry said finally. 'You don't have the time, you have Teddy and…' He didn't get to finish that thought as Andie cut him off. wearing a no-nonsense expression that Draco wouldn't have dared to argue with.

'I love my grandson but I need something else as well, something that will challenge me,' she asserted and then, changing tack once more: 'Please, Harry, let me do this for you, for both of you.' With that, Harry was beaten.

'Okay,' he sighed and Andromeda grinned broadly.

'Excellent,' she declared, pushing up from the table. 'Now I'm going to make dinner, if you want to spend some time with Teddy, and after we've eaten we'll get down to business,' she asserted and just for a moment Draco felt very sorry for Rita indeed.

* * *

Their plan to take on the _Prophet_ was already in motion by the time Sunday evening rolled around and they were due to return to school but, whilst their plan would certainly help them prevent any future problems, there were a couple which still needed to be dealt with.

Hogsmeade looked beautiful with its fresh covering of snow but Draco barely noticed as he traversed the narrow street, Harry's hand clutched in his own. As they turned a corner and the Three Broomsticks appeared in the distance he had an overwhelming urge to run back home and hide beneath the duvet. As if sensing his discomfort, Harry's fingers closed more tightly around his.

'It's going to be okay,' he whispered, the words curling away in the frosty air. Draco nodded and swallowed hard as they started towards the usually welcoming lights of the pub. Harry was right, of course. They had talked for hours last night about what they were going to do about the school's population and he knew this was the best course of action.

Leaving immediately on Saturday meant that they had avoided the discomfort of the story slowly trickling through the school as people whispered and pointed behind their backs. What they had traded it for, however, was returning when total saturation had been completed and there had been plenty of time for the gossip mills to turn out some truly creative stories about what they had and hadn't been seen doing.

Harry's suggestion had been that they would message Millie, Theo and Neville in the morning and meet them in Hogsmeade to talk and explain why they had kept it secret from people who had thought they were friends. That way, at least, when they faced the whole school, they would have support.

Last night the plan had seemed flawless. As Harry's feet tangled with his own beneath the covers, their movement reduced to loving touches and lazy kisses, he'd felt like he could accomplish anything. At that moment, had Harry asked him to stop the softly falling snow, he would have believed himself capable.

Now, however, he realised that was ridiculous. Millie and Theo would have spent the previous twenty-four hours fielding questions from the whole of Slytherin house about the nature of his relationship with Harry and they were not going to appreciate being abandoned to that fate without even being given an idea of how to answer the questions.

The Three Broomsticks was quiet for a Sunday evening, many people having chosen to remain at home in front of their fires rather than brave the snow. Still, their entrance was accompanied by turning heads and, unlike before in the Leaky Cauldron, they didn't seem willing to watch in silence. Almost immediately, speculative muttering filled the pub in a low buzz and Draco began to feel sick.

Harry had now clearly decided there was only one way to deal with this sort of behaviour and, tilting back his chin, he affected a posture that Draco was certain he had last seen looking back at him from his full length mirror.

He led Draco assuredly to the corner of one of the backrooms, whose only occupant was a grizzled looking old man with a Crup curled at his feet. They had only been sitting at the table for a couple of minutes before Madame Rosmerta appeared with a couple of Butterbeers in her hands and, after patting Harry warmly on the shoulder, she informed them that they were on the house.

Under the table. Harry reached out to place a hand on his knee and Draco watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. For some reason, seeing that Harry was nervous as well caused Draco to relax a little and, covering Harry's hand with his own, he sank back on to the overstuffed leather cushion and inhaled deeply.

The pub smelt of wood and beer and pipe smoke and Draco sighed slightly, allowing his eyes to drift closed. He couldn't quite place what it was about that smell that brought him such peace but immediately he knew that things were going to be okay.

The door opened, emitting a rush of cold air along with three Hogwarts students in cloaks, hats and scarves, their collars pulled up against the icy wind.

'You picked quite the night for a covert meeting, Harry,' Neville declared as he slid into a chair and reached out to warm frozen fingers by the fire whilst Theo fetched them drinks and Millie wrestled to revive her now flattened 'hat hair.'

'Yes, well, the next time we get outed by the _Prophet_ I shall make sure it happens in May,' Draco said sharply, immediately regretting it when Neville blushed and Harry pointedly stood on his foot.

'Sorry,' muttered Draco and he was pleased when Neville offered him a conciliatory smile.

'So, what's the great emergency?' Theo said with a wicked grin, appearing next to the table, bottles of Butterbeer in hand.

'Oh, ha bloody ha, really you're missing your calling as a comedian, Theo,' Draco said, aiming for unmoved. He couldn't quite manage it though as at that moment relief was flooding his veins. They weren't mad, at least not so mad that they couldn't see the funny side. He had Harry and he had his friends, the rest of the school could go to hell

'We wanted to apologise to you,' Harry began, once everyone had divested themselves of outer garments and had taken their seats. 'We know we should have told you, it's just…'

'Harry, If I could interrupt you for a moment,' Millie said, clearing her throat.

Draco looked at her in surprise. Millie had become a lot more outgoing this year but he was still a little thrown anytime she voiced her opinion.

'Could I just get a show of hands from those of us who either knew, suspected or thought it was inevitable?' she said with a small smirk. All three of them raised their hands.

'You all knew?' Draco said, momentarily stunned.

'Draco, I share a dorm with you for crying out loud, or at least I'm supposed to. Did you think I wouldn't notice that I've had the entire room to myself for almost two months now?' Theo chuckled disbelievingly.

Draco was stumped; he really didn't have any excuse he could offer. He had been focusing so much of his attention on Harry that he hadn't even thought about how it must have appeared to their friends.

'And you're all okay with it?' he heard himself ask and Millie dropped her head to the table with a thump.

'I believe what Millie is trying to say,' Neville began, in a rather delicate tone: 'is _duh!_'

Draco looked at him, hard. Neville Longbottom had never, ever dared to talk back to Draco like that, not even since their tentative friendship had begun. Draco was shocked. Harry, on the other hand, was amused. Draco could feel Harry tense as he tried to hold in his amusement and knew that it was going to be a futile battle. Moments later he was proved correct when Harry burst out laughing and everyone else joined in.

Slowly the laughter died away and they all sat quietly sipping at their drinks for a minute or two.

'So, how's the rest of the school taking it?' Harry asked eventually and the atmosphere shifted.

'Hard to say,' Mille responded, peeling the label away from her bottle. 'There have been a lot of questions. Lots of people asking whether we knew, lots of people wanting to know how long it's been going on, how you got together, what the hell you're both thinking and what in Merlin's name Draco is up to.'

'Well, I suppose, since you've been fielding these questions for us all weekend, it would only be fair to let you know the answers,' Draco said resignedly, looking to Harry for confirmation. Harry smiled warmly and shuffled closer, sliding an arm around Draco's waist.

'Well, it really started the night the war ended,' Harry began as Draco leaned into the warmth at Harry's side. The look of pride on Harry's face as he related the details of them getting together brought a lump to his throat.

* * *

'I do not want to do this,' Harry muttered as they approached the large front doors to the school and his pace slowed, causing he and Draco to fall slightly behind the others. 'Do we really need NEWTS? Couldn't we just go get our stuff, quit school and go into hiding?' he asked hopefully.

Draco closed his eyes, silencing the little voice that was trying to convince him that Harry's suggestion was in fact an excellent idea. and slid smoothly into his Malfoy training. Training that told him he did not quail in front of any one (as ironic as those words had been coming from his father's mouth, they were still true.) Malfoys stood tall at all times.

'Not ashamed of me are you, Potter?' he asked, confident of Harry's response but needing to drag him out of his panic.

'What? No, of course not, I've never been…' Harry began, panic in his eyes.

'I know that, Harry,' Draco said, kindly now. 'You know that too, but if we don't show our faces tonight that is what people will think. They will assume that we are embarrassed, that we have something to be embarrassed about. So even if we do decide to flee from education, we still have to go into dinner tonight.'

'You're right,' Harry said, taking a deep breath. He exhaled hard, his breath hanging in a frosty cloud before him. He turned, catching Draco in an intense searching kiss as if he were trying to find his courage. Light fell across them from an unknown source and not too far away someone cleared their throat, recalling them both to where they were and what they were supposed to be doing.

As they broke apart Draco looked up to see their friends waiting for them on the top step, the door to the castle propped open with light spilling out and causing the snow around them to sparkle.

'Could you guys perhaps finish that later?' Theo asked, his voice caught somewhere between amusement and irritation. 'Only, I'm starving and it is fucking freezing out here.'

Tilting his head at Harry questioningly, Draco waited for a sign that he was ready. At the almost imperceptible nod, Draco threw his arm around Harry's shoulders and guided them up the steps and into the Entrance Hall.

The chatter of students coming from beyond the huge oak doors informed Draco that dinner was already in progress and he felt his hands began to sweat slightly as he thought of the way every set of eyes would turn on them the moment they entered the Hall.

'Which table?' Neville asked as he paused, his hand resting on the large brass door knob.

'Slytherin?' Harry asked. 'More space,' he explained when Draco shot him a slightly surprised look. The others nodded; as they walked into the Hall the surrounded Harry and himself in a sort of guard.

It was as bad as Draco had thought it would be. As they walked across to the half empty Slytherin table and took up seats at one end, the noise level in the Hall dropped away until it was so quiet one could have heard a Bowtruckle sneeze. Draco ignored them all and kept his eyes fixed on Harry as he helped himself to a chicken breast and some roast potatoes.

Slowly, noise began to creep back into the Hall, whispers surrounded them and Draco thought it sounded rather like standing in the middle of a forest during a strong wind. He tried desperately not to listen, but occasionally the odd comment broke through.

'Don't know who he thinks he's kidding… should be ashamed… Harry could have anyone he wants… maybe it's some kind of joke… disgusting.'

Draco tried his best to drown them out. He had Harry, he and Harry were together and eventually everyone would get used to it. If they didn't, that was their problem; he wasn't giving it up for anything.

Harry, however, seemed to be struggling a little more that he was. He hadn't eaten more than two mouthfuls of his steak and kidney pie by the time the desserts appeared and though he knew Harry would usually sacrifice most things to get a mouthful of treacle tart, today he just looked at it like he might be sick and fixed Draco with pleading eyes.

Unable to deny Harry anything when he looked at him like that, Draco smiled and rose from his bench and was touched when the others rose with him. Harry smiled at him, relief flooding his features, and almost knocked over the bench in his hurry to extricate himself.

Others were already filing out of the Great Hall, so thankfully their exit was nowhere near as conspicuous as their arrival but Draco knew that the conversations about them would continue whether they were present or not.

'Thanks,' Harry said the moment they were back in the familiar surroundings of his and Hermione's room. 'I know why we needed to be there but I swear, if I heard one more person bad mouthing you I was going to flip out and choke them with a bread and butter pudding.'

'Only thing to do with a bread and butter pudding,' Draco joked, making a face and Harry laughed, sinking down onto the sofa and pulling Draco down into his lap.

'Well, that was thoroughly horrific,' Harry said with a huge sigh as Draco settled back into him. getting comfortable. He was tired; all the worry of the last few days was finally beginning to catch up with him. The crackle of the fire and the gentle rise and fall of Harry's chest were soothing to Draco and the way Harry's arms wrapped around him made him feel safe and protected; slowly, he began to drift.

Draco sat bolt upright as someone burst into the room. Behind him, Harry muttered, 'enough with the jellyfish' as he also jolted awake.

'Sorry I wasn't here sooner, I couldn't get away from Ron,' Hermione announced as she bustled into the room and began to unload a floating tray, which was stacked with plates, onto the low coffee table.

'Whatcha doing, 'Mione?' Harry asked, rubbing furiously at sleepy eyes whilst Draco took a moment to yawn and stretch, narrowly avoiding punching Harry in the face as he did so.

'I brought you some food,' she explained, obviously thinking that Harry was being a little dense.

'Yes, but why?' Harry asked, repositioning himself slightly as Draco leaned forward to snatch a ham sandwich off of the plate, suddenly starving.

'Oh, come off it, Harry, I've been sitting next to you at dinner for seven years, I know that when you're anxious about something the first thing to go is your appetite and no one makes you more anxious than that bitch Skeeter,' she said, loading sandwiches and a pasty onto a plate and thrusting it towards Harry.

'I'll have you know I've been eating fine,' Harry said, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest.

'Really?' Hermione asked and then she fixed Draco with her sternest stare. Draco looked between Harry and Hermione for a moment before offering his boyfriend an apologetic shrug.

'He barely ate two bites of his dinner,' he confirmed and Hermione looked at Harry with a smug expression.

'Hey,' Harry exclaimed, poking Draco firmly in the ribs. 'I thought it was supposed to be you and me, standing together, against everyone else? How come you sell me out to Hermione the first chance you get?'

'Harry,' Draco began in his most reassuring voice, 'I will stand with you against public persecution, Rita Skeeter, a new Dark Lord, even a dragon if needs be, but Hermione?' He shook his head and affected a little shiver. 'Hermione scares me!'

Harry looked like he was pondering this for a moment before he returned the shrug.

'Good point,' he agreed with a smile and accepted the plate from Hermione.

'So, how are you holding up?' she asked as she curled herself into an armchair and began picking apart a muffin.

'We're okay,' Harry said. 'I was glad to get away from here for the weekend, though.'

'Yeah, I can imagine. I wish I could have too. Some of the stuff that's been said is really horrible, I'd forgotten just how bigoted people could be.'

'That's what I was afraid of,' Draco opined taking, over the conversation as Harry attempted to inhale his sandwiches.

'I'm sure it will all die down in a few weeks though,' Hermione offered hopefully and Draco's thoughts flitted to the action plan Andromeda had worked out. He had been all for them fighting Skeeter and the _Prophet_ and had worked hard to keep Harry onside each time he wavered. There was one aspect of it, however, of which he struggled to see the upside.

'I wouldn't bet on it,' he sighed, selecting a muffin for himself. 'In a couple of weeks we'll be hearing the first trickle of information about the lawsuit.'

'Lawsuit? What lawsuit?' Hermione asked, shuffling into a more upright position.

'Andie convinced us to sue Rita Skeeter— defamation of character,' Harry said, putting aside his now empty plate and pulling Draco close again.

'She actually convinced you to do that?' Hermione sounded shocked and Draco hoped fervently that she wasn't about to spout some crap about freedom of the press and talk Harry out of it again. If she were to do that he might have to kill her in her sleep.

'You don't think it's a good idea?' Harry questioned nervously and Draco felt himself tensing in anticipation.

'I think it's a great idea,' Hermione said, radiating enthusiasm. 'The things she said about you both were just horrible. I was going to suggest it in fourth year but you had so much on your mind and it would have been so much work… how are you going to manage it now?' she asked, suddenly changing tack. 'With your NEWT's and college applications, there's no way you're going to have time.'

'Andie's taking care of it all,' Draco explained, relieved. 'She insisted, apparently she used to be an attorney.'

Hermione fell silent for a moment, sinking back into her chair and chewing on her lip thoughtfully.

'What, Hermione?' Harry's question had the weary tone of someone who knew he was only asking a question that had been prompted.

'Oh, it's nothing,' Hermione replied unconvincingly.

'Yeah right,' Harry scoffed. 'I know that look, that look is "I want to ask something exceptionally presumptuous" and since we both know you will ask it sooner or later, let's just make it sooner, shall we?'

Draco would have been shocked at Harry's callous handling of his friend had matching small smiles not been gracing both their faces.

'Getting me back for the eating thing?' Hermione asked sweetly.

'You betcha,' Harry grinned back.

'Well, I was wondering, I was hoping to maybe go to Orolex next year, there's a scholarship position available and I would be in with a much better chance of winning it if I had some practical law experience. I was wondering if maybe Andromeda could use an extra pair of hands?' There was a slight nervousness in her voice as she asked and Draco couldn't help but wonder if she actually thought for a moment that Harry would say no.

'I will Owl her in the morning,' Harry agreed and Draco recognised a sleepy tone to Harry's voice. 'And you never know, Andie is an alumnus herself, I'm sure she'd be willing to write you a recommendation,' he smiled, starting to disentangle himself from Draco and clamber to his feet.

'Well, only if I excel,' said Hermione, seeming horrified at the idea that she might get some form of favouritism.

'Yes, of course, Hermione.' Draco was unable to resist the opportunity to tease her just a little. 'Because there's always a small chance that this will be the one subject you can't master perfectly,' he grinned, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet.

'You really think that's possible?' she fretted, a panicked tone to her voice.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly in exasperation.

'Goodnight, Hermione,' he asserted, nudging Draco, who was now giggling slightly, towards the bedroom door.

* * *

By the time Wednesday rolled around there had been no improvement in the general attitude of the student body. Homophobic remarks seemed to follow Draco everywhere he went and Harry had apparently received several rather forward offers to 'show him what he was missing.'

The experience was beginning to wear a little on both of them; still, they were determined that they weren't going to let it get to them. When Draco had snapped at Harry irritably on Tuesday night, Harry had simply pulled him into a kiss which had immediately soothed his frayed nerves and reminded him why they were doing this in the first place.

The high point was discovering they had the almost unanimous support of the teachers and when Ron had finally made his opinion known to Harry outside Charms by spitting on his shoes, Flitwick had been uncharacteristically harsh in assigning him a full month of detention.

Hermione had also started to pull away from Ron. She informed them that every time Harry's name came up, he would make childish comments about not dropping the soap and she was, apparently, getting thoroughly sick of her boyfriend's attitude. They were still officially a couple but they were arguing more than they agreed these days and Hermione had begun to join their little gang at meal times occasionally.

The low point of Draco's week was still to come, however. After the Flitwick incident most people were keeping the comments to a minimum in class but Draco was certain that Cannock wouldn't even raise an eyebrow at the odd slur against him and he was dreading the class more than usual.

When he arrived at the classroom he found that Neville was waiting patiently in the corridor for him and Draco was slightly heartened when he was offered a supportive smile before being accompanied into the classroom.

The class was, unfortunately, worse than Draco had even imagined it to be. Cannock not only ignored the other students' pointed comments as well as the tripping jinx that Lavender Brown aimed at Draco as he went to hand in his essay, but he seemed eager to join in the bullying.

The first instance was when he 'accidentally' spilt cold coffee all across the essay that Harry had worked so hard to finish the night before. Luckily Draco was incredibly organized when it came to his homework and he duplicated all essays before he handed them in. Obviously irritated at Draco finding a way round his sabotage he made an underhanded comment about how it was lucky that Draco duplicated as his wrists probably wouldn't be up to writing it again.

He was just returning to his desk when Cannock, apparently thinking that he was the funniest thing alive, tried again to provoke Draco.

'I must say, Mr Malfoy, duplicating all your essays is very organised of you, almost _anal_, one might say,' he said mildly and Draco noticed the appreciative smirk on his face as several members of the class tittered with laughter.

Neville was positively fuming as they left the lesson twenty minutes later and was muttering under his breath about incompetent teachers. As much as Draco appreciated Neville's irritation on his behalf, he had to call a halt to it when the other boy mentioned getting McGonagall involved.

'Neville, no. This needs to stay between me and you, please,' he said, placing a hand on Neville's arm and bringing them both to a stop.

'But, Draco,' Neville protested. 'He can't be allowed to get away with this, it's horrific.'

'It is,' he agreed, 'but hear me out for a moment. If we talk about this to McGonagall, Harry will find out and Harry hearing about this is the absolute last thing I want,' Draco explained. Neville opened his mouth to protest once more but Draco help up a hand and continued.

'You know Harry, you've been his friend for years, you know what will happen. He will want to defend me, he will lose his tenuous grip on that hot temper of his and I don't know what he might do in response,' Draco said pointedly and Neville closed his mouth again with a resigned look on his face. 'I know he's never punched a teacher before but there's a lot of bad blood between him and Cannock and to be honest, I wouldn't put it past him.'

'Okay,' Neville said, reaching out to grasp Draco's shoulder reassuringly,' we won't tell Harry.'

'Well, well, well,' a pompous voice reverberated down the corridor to meet them and Neville and Draco turned as one to see Zacharias Smith sauntering toward them.

'First Potter, now Longbottom, you're quite the man whore aren't you, Malfoy? Are you trying to fuck your way to respectability?' Smith sneered.

Before Draco had a chance to even register the insult, let alone formulate the witty retort that was sure to follow moments later, Neville had stepped forward and the resulting crack as his fist connected with Smith's jaw was almost sickening.

'Neville!' he yelped, tugging ineffectually at the much larger boy's shoulders as Neville attempted to get to where Smith was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

'What is going on here?' The shrill burr of McGonagall drifted through the corridors and Draco felt his stomach plummet. This was a whole new league of not good. She scanned the scene before turning her hawk-like gaze on Draco and Neville.

'Mr Longbottom, Mr Malfoy, you will go and wait in my office whist I see Mr Smith to the hospital wing. I will deal with you shortly,' she barked and Draco and Neville muttered simultaneous 'Yes, Professor'-s before turning and walking away as quickly as possible.

'Well Neville,' Draco began as they turned the corner, 'that was very noble of you, and really, really dumb.'

'It was a bit, wasn't it?' Neville responded, shaking out his hand and wincing with the pain.

'Are you alright?' Draco asked, trying hard to suppress a smile. Neville was hurt and they were both in trouble, again, but the look on Smith's face the moment before Neville's fist had rearranged it had been worth untold nights of detention. His only worry now was Harry finding out what had happened. Not that he would have to tell him; there was no doubt that the school grapevine would have taken care of that well before he returned to their room later.

'Yeah, I'm okay,' Neville said, shaking his hand once more. 'It's just, damn! Heroes in books get into fist fights all the time, you never hear about their broken hand afterwards.'

'I know what you mean,' Draco said, shaking back his sleeve to reveal his own bruised knuckles. 'I was a little irritated on Saturday and got into a bit of an argument with the mirror above the fire. I just wanted to break things but my hand wasn't on the list.'

They continued on to McGonagall's office in a companionable silence. As they did so, Draco found himself experiencing what he liked to call a snapshot moment. It was almost as if his consciousness had separated from his body and was drifting above him, documenting the event just as it was, allowing him to have something of a reality check.

'Is this really my life?' he muttered to himself and Neville looked across at him curiously.

'How do you mean?' he asked and Draco became aware that he had spoken aloud. Realising he would have to explain himself now, Draco took a deep breath.

'Well, do you ever just stop and look around at where you are and compare it to where you were one year before or even two years before, or five?' Draco inquired, enthusiasm rising. Neville looked at him thoughtfully a moment.

'Five years ago?' he asked. 'We would have been in our third year. That was the year Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban.'

'There were Dementors surrounding the school and I was being my usual obnoxious self, winding Harry up about his reaction to them. I can't believe how foul I was at times,' Draco sighed, slightly embarrassed.

'Man. they were horrible.' Neville said. a shiver rippling through him and Draco wondered what memory he was reliving in his head.

Draco's mind had wandered directly to the incident when the Dementors had boarded the train and he had fled from the compartment, suddenly terrified that his father might find him there.

'That was the year Harry sneaked into Hogsmeade and threw mud at my head,' Draco said and he found himself remembering the incident as one might recall something amusing that a naughty puppy had done.

'That was back when I still couldn't remember the common room password,' Neville said with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

'Merlin, do you remember my hair back then? All that gel, what was I thinking?' Draco raised a hand to run it across his head, just to reassure himself that his hair was as touchable as always.

'Well, I'm pretty certain that look was fashionable once. Back in the fifties, maybe?' Neville offered mildly.

'Thanks for that.' Draco feigned offence but found he couldn't quite keep it up, which was becoming more and more of a problem recently.

'But still, my point remains, look at us. Tell me truthfully that you thought there would ever come a time where Hufflepuffs were attacking me because I'm with Harry Potter and you felt the need to defend my honour?' Draco asked earnestly as Neville pulled open the door to McGonagall's office.

'You have a point, I think we may have fallen into a parallel dimension,' Neville grinned.

'When did you become such a wise ass?' Draco asked, exasperated but amused.

'I've been taking lessons from the guy I sit next to in my Defence class,' he shot back.

'Oh, an apprentice, I've always wanted an apprentice. Stick with me, young Longbottom, and you will go far,' Draco grinned back and both of them started to laugh.

'I really can't understand what you could possibly find funny at this moment,' came the shrill sound of Professor McGonagall from directly behind them, scaring all the humour from the room. 'A boy is in the hospital wing,with a broken jaw because of you two and you are laughing about it?'

'Please Professor,' Neville said before Draco could speak. 'It wasn't Draco's fault...'

'Mr Longbottom, please,' McGonagall said, cutting across Neville. 'We will get to the bottom of this but we are currently waiting for one more person and I will not begin without them.'

'You said one of the one of the Prefects was in trouble, Professor, I came as fast as I could!' puffed Harry, bursting into the room, straightening his robes as he went, before his eyes came to rest on Draco and he came to a sudden stop.

'Yes, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy was discovered fighting along with Mr Longbottom,'

McGonagall informed him and Harry turned wide, hurt eyes on them both.

'Not with each other,' Neville said quickly. 'It was Smith, he was saying really horrible things to Draco and I lost my temper. It wasn't Draco's fault, he had nothing to do with it,' Neville explained and Draco was pleased to see Harry relax a little.

'Yes, but Mr Malfoy is a Prefect, he should have taken the situation in hand,' McGonagall stated simply before turning to Harry.

'To be honest, Mr Potter, I had hoped that Miss Granger would be available for this meeting. I understand that it will be hard for you to help with this situation, considering your…' she paused, clearly searching for the right word. 'Involvement with Mr Malfoy,' she finished.

Harry looked at him, eyes wide with panic. They had both known that this would be a possibility. The Head Boy and Girl were responsible for the Prefects and as such, whenever one of them got into trouble there was a frank discussion about whether or not the Prefect should be allowed to retain their powers.

Draco smiled warmly at Harry, hoping to convince him that whatever the outcome it would not get in the way of them. He knew that Harry had a responsibility to his position. Draco was delighted when Harry smiled back and he couldn't help but be a little awed at how well he and Harry read each other after such a short time.

'It'll be fine, Professor,' Harry reassured, sliding into a seat.

By the time they were allowed to leave the office, Neville had managed to pick up another week's worth of detention and Draco was on probation. If he broke any more school rules he would be stripped of his position as a Prefect. Harry had squirmed in his seat slightly at that, knowing that Draco would be breaking the school rules again in a matter of hours as it was not permitted for Hogwarts students to share beds.

'I'm sorry you have detention, and that it's my fault, again,' Draco said, offering Neville an apologetic smile as they waited patiently for Harry to finish up with McGonagall.

'I regret nothing,' Neville grinned back. 'Smith's had that coming for a long time, I'm just glad that I was the one to do it.'

* * *

November slipped away and with it went a lot of the gossip about Harry and Draco's relationship. There was still some hostility coming from some of the more bigoted, or as Draco had taken to calling them, the repressed students but eventually, when they realised that Harry and he weren't going to suddenly start shagging in the corridors, people began to lose interest. Especially when there was a new relationship either emerging or dissolving pretty much every day.

Parvati Patil had apparently overcome her disappointment at Harry being off the market by taking up with Terry Boot. There was talk of another Slytherin and Gryffindor pairing as Millie and Neville were rumoured to be interested in each other. Draco knew for a fact that both sides were indeed interested, but he'd had very little success convincing each of them of this fact and they remained stubbornly shy in each other's company.

In the first weekend of December the newest gossip was about Ginny Weasley. Apparently she and her brother had been involved in a blazing row in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and speculation about the cause was rife. Rumours varied from Ron's disgust at Ginny taking up with Smith again to a rumour that Ginny was blaming Ron for her break up with Harry, claiming that he always wanted Harry for himself.

Harry had looked seriously disturbed when this rumour reached him and it took Draco twenty minutes to convince him that the joke he had made about Ron's amorous intentions back in July had been just that. Still, they both appreciated the fact that the rumour mill had moved on, even though they took no part in it. After being the centre of the school's attention themselves, Draco felt like it would be bad form to start gossiping about someone else the moment the heat was off.

Never in a million years did Draco suspect that he would be the one to discover the mystery behind the Weasleys' fight, and through first hand information.

It was the first Saturday in December. Harry had insisted that they should head into Hogsmeade to do little early Christmas shopping. Draco, who had always been much more of a Christmas Eve shopper, had protested. As one might have predicted, however, Harry had put on his best pout and nine o'clock saw a grumbling but present Draco walking down the lane at Harry's side, hands thrust deeply in his pockets and collar turned up against the bitter cold.

'I want a cigarette,' Draco muttered and Harry sighed at him.

'Can you at least wait until we're out of sight of the school so no impressionable first years see you?' Harry asked as patiently as he could.

'I suppose,' Draco huffed and picked up his pace so that they could get to the corner that much quicker.

'Harry, Harry, wait up!' A girl's voice floated down the lane behind then and Draco stopped, closing his eyes and suppressing a groan. So close. He turned to look back up the lane and couldn't keep the scowl off of his face when he saw Ginny Weasley jogging towards them.

'Ginny,' Harry greeted and Draco was delighted to note that the chill in Harry's voice was a couple of degrees below the ambient temperature.

'I was wondering, could we—could we maybe talk for a moment?' Her eyes flicked nervously towards where Draco was standing and he found himself straightening slightly in response. 'Alone?' she added apprehensively.

'Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Draco,' Harry said, taking a small sidestep in Draco's direction so that if he were to reach out his hand he would be able to touch him.

Draco smirked and thinking that Harry was probably distracted enough to forget their earlier topic of conversation, he withdrew the packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, dragging the soothing smoke deep into his lungs. If he was going to have to deal with the Weaselette he needed nicotine.

'O—kay,' she said, folding her arms across her stomach defensively. 'I wanted to apologise,' she said and Harry looked like she had slapped him.

'You want to apologise?' Harry asked dumbly, apparently unsure that he had heard correctly and Ginny nodded, gaining a little more courage when he didn't just fling it back in her face.

'I acted like a complete brat this summer,' she said as Harry stood there stunned. 'There were a lot of reasons. The only people who seemed to really like me, who didn't treat me like a baby, were you, Fred and George,' she explained and Draco could see that she was struggling to keep her composure.

'Then Fred died and George left and you didn't want me any more and I just lost the plot. Not that I had any excuse for treating you the way I did, I just thought you deserved an explanation.' Tears were gathering in her eyes now, clinging to her eyelashes, and Draco saw Harry soften slightly.

'Ginny,' he began, his voice gentle as he took a step towards her but she stepped back.

'Please, Harry, just let me finish. When I saw the article I finally understood. That's why Ron and I argued, he still doesn't understand, but I do. You were doing what was best for me and I was constructing fantasies based on someone I didn't really know. I get that now. And…' she paused taking a deep breath and blinking away the tears. 'I'm glad you're happy, I'm glad you've found someone who makes you happy, you deserve it,' she finished. She turned to Draco then, looking him up and down: 'Look after him, Malfoy.' With that she started to leave.

'Gin, wait,' Harry called and the familiar address seemed to catch her attention; she looked back.

'I can't, Harry. Zach's at Quidditch and I was only able to slip away for a moment, he'd be horrified if he knew I was here talking to you, but I needed to tell you how sorry I was. Bye, Harry.' She ran back up the lane, leaving Harry in a state of shock.

'Did that just happen?' Harry questioned, turning confused eyes on Draco.

'It did,' Draco nodded. 'It was strange and unexpected but it definitely happened.'

'What do I do now?' Harry asked, looking about as if the answer might fall out of the sky. Draco looped his arm through Harry's and pointed him back in the direction of Hogsmeade.

'Well, I for one think the lady should be obeyed, you should be happy,' he smiled. 'Now, come on, don't you have some festivity to force on me?'

'I thought you didn't want to go Christmas shopping? Harry teased, regaining a little of his humour.

'Shopping is shopping, who cares what time of year it is,' Draco asserted, leading Harry towards the town.


	18. Chapter 17 In the Bleak Midwinter

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but if I did there is no way Draco would have lost his hair :D

A/N: Thanks, as always, to saras_girl for endless patience, infinite wisdom and the occasional cuppa. This Chapter goes to fiercedragon because I think it would make her happy and distract her from the endless exams that she seems to be taking. Enjoy.

Chapter 17

In the Bleak Midwinter

_Yeah, it's plain to see that baby you're beautiful__  
__And there's nothing wrong with you,__It's me, I'm a freak__  
__but thanks for lovin' me,__Cause you're doing it perfectly___

_Yeah, there might have been a time,__When I would let you slip away__  
__I wouldn't even try,__But I think you could save my life___

_Just don't give up I'm workin' it out,__Please don't give in, I won't let you down__  
__It messed me up, need a second to breathe,__Just keep comin' around_

_Adam Lambert –Whataya Want From Me _

Harry immediately liked the Christmas card as he drew it from it silver envelope. A tall fir stood in the middle of a forest scene covered in gently twinkling lights as snow fell lightly. It was the first card they had received that wasn't a garish combination of red and green. Wondering who it was who had such good taste, he flipped open the card, freeing an envelope inside and causing it to flutter to the ground.

He stooped and picked it up, turning it over in his hand and seeing his name scrawled hastily on the front but no other markings. He turned his eyes back to the large, loopy handwriting.

He couldn't deny that he was shocked by the name he found there. Of all the people who might have sent a really tasteful Christmas card, George Weasley hadn't even entered his mind as a possibility. Setting the card in the centre of the mantelpiece, beside the ones from Andie and Hermione, he took the envelope back to the sofa and sat down, resting crossed feet on the coffee table and, tearing it open, he pulled out the parchment inside.

_Dear Harry, _

_Bet you didn't guess this card was from me, huh? Well, I will set your mind to rest, Katie bought them; I had nothing to do with the choice. We both know the ones that I would have picked would have been decorated with dancing turkeys._

_I want to apologise right away, Harry, I've been meaning to write or fire-call you for months now. Ever since Ron's little outburst in fact. At the time, though, I wasn't in the state to be offering anyone comfort and it sort of slipped my mind. That article in the Prophet reminded me but I was in the middle of getting the shop ready for the Christmas rush and I was working till about midnight and up again at six. Doing this alone, there is so much work to do sometimes, I don't know whether I'm coming or going. Katie helps out when she's not playing Quidditch but there's still loads to do. _

_Anyway, I thought with the whole Christmas card thing I really should just get on with it and write to you, though now all the things I was going to say seem shockingly out of date. _

_I guess the Prophet thing is still current news, not that you're making it in there any more. I think they are frightened to print anything at all in case it hurts them even more. Thank Merlin for the Quibbler, eh? Otherwise we regular folk have no idea what's going on. Katie's calling it a battle for the soul of journalism but then she does love to dramatize._

_I'm impressed at what you're doing, you know? But then, you always did have a real pair on you, Harry. I think the way you and Malfoy are standing together on this is really inspiring. I know that Fred would have been impressed. I've never told anyone about this before, because it was his story to tell, but I know he wouldn't mind me telling you. Fred had been struggling with the whole gay thing for more years than I care to remember, he was terrified of what Mum would say if he came out. _

_It's strange, he wasn't scared of anything but the idea that Mum would be hurt by it really got to him and because of it he lived a lie until the day he died. I know he would have been proud of you, Harry, but then he always was. _

_I can't imagine Ron has taken your little bit of news well, mind. He was never the most tolerant person I've met and I imagine your choice of boyfriend won't have helped that either. To tell you the truth, though, I don't really know what's going on with the family. I see Charlie and Dad occasionally but that's about it. I know that for Mum, seeing me is still far too painful and I don't want to put her through that but still, I'm rambling off the point. I wanted to say that no matter what happens with Ron you can always call on me when you need me. _

_I was absolutely furious at him when I heard what he'd done in the summer. You've had to put up with so much crap from him sometimes, I wonder if you aren't better off shot of him. I remember when I found out he was hiding at Shell Cottage, after abandoning you last year. Fred went ballistic at him; he charged down there and ripped Ron a new one. Threatened him with all kinds of crap if he didn't find you, I think he would have done it, too._

_I know it might be a little strange for me to say this about my little brother but you're important to me too and you were always more than our little brother's mate to Fred and me, you were our friend. _

_Anyway, this letter has been far, far too long and serious, I had no intention of getting this deep but it seems to be happening more and more often these days. If you're about in the New Year maybe we could meet for a drink and have a proper catch up. You can even bring Malfoy, though I can't promise not to have some fun with him._

_Merry Christmas,_

_George._

Harry carefully folded the letter and allowed his head to fall back against the leather sofa. So, Ron had lied to them, big surprise. Scrubbing a hand across his face, Harry struggled upwards and headed to the study, where he deposited the letter in his desk drawer. He would answer it later. Right now he needed to do something, something to take his mind off the fact that if Fred hadn't brow beaten Ron into coming back and finding them, he would have died in an icy pool in the Forest of Dean and Voldemort would have taken over the world.

Harry had no idea why he thought that Christmas shopping was going to take his mind off of George's letter but when Draco had told him that he needed to work, he had decided to get out of the house to keep himself from being distracting.

Shoppers bustled around him as he stood in Diagon Alley and Harry felt completely alone. Draco was busy; he had piles of homework that he wanted to get finished before Christmas Eve and Harry didn't want to disturb him.

He knew that had he told Draco that he could use some company, he would have put aside his complicated Arithmancy chart and accompanied him out into the crowded streets. But he didn't want to do that; he didn't want to be that kind of boyfriend, the kind that would expect Draco to lay everything else aside because he needed a little cheering up.

Still, he didn't think it was Draco's absence that was really making him feel alone right now. It was Ron's. Harry wasn't sure how it had happened but Draco had become not only his boyfriend but his best friend. Not that this was a problem most of the time but right now, with Draco busy, it would be the ideal time to call up his friend and meet for a drink. Except of course that person was one and the same.

Silently, Harry scolded himself; he had no idea what he was playing at. He'd never been the sort of person to crave constant company in the past. Years locked in his tiny cupboard at his Aunt and Uncle's had taught him to appreciate the time that he was alone so it wasn't like he hadn't been in this situation before. He just had to make the most of it, do something that he needed Draco out of the way to do.

Sighing, he resigned himself to his original plan and plunged headlong into the bustling crowds, determined to find Draco's Christmas gifts. Unfortunately, the brightly coloured displays in the windows and the forced cheeriness of the shop staff did nothing to improve his mood and by the time he was finished he was reluctant to return home and force Draco to deal with his extremely black temper.

Thankfully, someone was clearly looking out for him and, as he fought his way back towards the Leaky Cauldron, a very familiar voice rang out through the crowds.

'Harry!' Hermione yelled and slowly he turned on the spot, rolling his eyes when he realised that Hermione's shout hadn't just drawn his attention. Now, several other people, who had only moments before been far too involved in their shopping to notice him, began to react to his presence. The whispers and points radiated out from him in a circle and he closed his eyes as Hermione actually shoved someone out of the way in her efforts to reach him.

'Sorry, I didn't think,' Hermione said as she finally reached him.

Harry was about to reassure her that it really didn't matter, when a middle aged woman behind him made the mistake of muttering that she was glad to see Harry had 'come to his senses'.

Harry couldn't quite decide whether the resulting altercation left him touched or embarrassed. Not that it mattered. Hermione had one of the longest fuses of anyone he knew but when she lost it, her temper was the same as every other Gryffindor's—explosive.

'What?' Hermione snapped, turning to the woman who seemed to physically quail before the rather fearsome Hermione.

'I didn't…' she began, clearly attempting to maintain her superior tone and appear unruffled.

'No, no,' Hermione asserted and Harry recognised the tone as one which the woman would do very well to be scared of. 'You were expressing your prejudiced and uninformed opinion, please don't let me stop you. The whole street should have an opportunity to revel in your idiocy.'

'I was only saying that it's good to see Mr Potter with a nice young lady at last and that the Malfoy silliness is behind him,' the woman said, puffing herself up and clearly deciding to stand her ground. Harry groaned. This woman was quite obviously a moron and clearly didn't realise that Hermione had been known to tame Giants with a harsh word.

'Really?' Hermione said nastily. 'Well, I'm sorry to inform you that I'm not with Harry. That Harry is still with Malfoy, and no number of moronic, bigoted, sexually repressed housewives are going to change that, so you might as well get used to it.'

'Hermione, please, can we just go?' Harry asked, deciding it was worth getting his head bitten off to try to draw this humiliation to a close.

'No, Harry, not until she apologises to you,' Hermione said, standing her ground and staring at the woman with a glare that Professor McGonagall would have been proud of.

'Sorry,' she murmured, hanging her head, and at that moment she looked like a school girl who had just been caught out after curfew.

'I should think so too,' Hermione said and with that she looped her arm through Harry's and led him off through the small crowd that had surrounded them, straining to hear the subject of the argument.

'Good to see you, Hermione,' Harry said, once they were in sight of the archway leading to the Leaky Cauldron. 'I wasn't sure who was going to publicly humiliate me until you turned up, but I should have known I can always count on you in a crisis.' He tried to appear put-out but the look on the woman's face had been so amusing, he wasn't able to keep it up for long and soon both of them were laughing.

'I'm so sorry, Harry,' Hermione offered, blushing slightly. 'I guess I went a little far, didn't I?'

'You think?' Harry asked with a grin. 'Wait till I tell Draco, I'm sure he'll find it hilarious.'

Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned. 'I just acted like an escaped mental patient, didn't I?' she asked with trepidation.

'Just a smidge,' Harry reassured, holding up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, resulting in another groan from Hermione.

'C'mon, let me buy you a drink and you can tell me about what caused that particular meltdown,' he offered, managing to forget that ten minutes before he'd been in a truly foul mood.

Unfortunately, the respite was only temporary. It turned out that his and Hermione's foul moods had a common cause and this cause was lanky with red hair.

'I just don't get it,' Hermione said, rolling her mug of mulled wine between her hands as she stared into its depths. 'He asked me to go back to the Burrow with him for Christmas, he wanted to sort things out between us, but he's barely talked to me. He just sits in his room, sulking.

'We tried to talk once, on the first night but he just kept talking about you, saying that it was "all your fault" that we weren't getting along. He even said that you leaked the pictures of your relationship with Draco to the papers, just to get my sympathy so I would leave him.'

Harry sighed. It seemed Ron was making everyone's life miserable at the moment. He had spent some time talking to Ginny again, after Demelza had managed to break her ankle and he had needed a replacement Chaser. Apparently Ron was refusing to even talk to her, saying if she didn't respect herself then he wasn't going to either.

Her brother's anger was clearly affecting Ginny rather deeply because she was quieter and more withdrawn than Harry had ever seen her and now Ron was dragging Hermione down, too. When it had just been him that was bearing the brunt of Ron's bad mood he'd been able to cope. Now he was starting to affect people he cared about and it was really pissing him off.

'Hermione, what's wrong with him?' Harry asked, surprised to find that he did actually care. He would go as far as saying that he hoped that there was something wrong with Ron. Something that would explain his sudden propensity to behave like a wanker towards everyone he knew. 'I know it's something. Ron's behaved like a prat in the past but he's always come round. This just seems different somehow.'

She bit on her lip nervously, obviously unsure of whether or not she should be talking about this to Harry.

'I don't know for certain,' she said at last, meeting Harry's eyes. 'I did do some reading, though, and there's this Muggle illness called Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. It occurs amongst people returning from wars and those who've lived through natural disasters and things like that,' she continued, taking the tone she always did when she explained things, the one that made Harry think of a talking encyclopaedia.

'Uncontrollable anger is one of the symptoms, as are disrupted sleep and avoidance of stimuli that are associated with the trauma. I think that in Ron's case, that stimulus might be you,' Hermione finished, hanging her head, unable to meet Harry's gaze once more.

'So, it really is my fault,' Harry said with a sigh, scrubbing one hand through his hair. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'No, Harry, it isn't your fault.' Hermione reached a hand across the table to cover Harry's. 'I've talked to Ron about this, back when we were in Australia. He agreed with me, promised me he'd speak to a Healer when he got back but he hasn't, now he keeps insisting he's fine. What is happening to him is sad but it isn't your fault. He could be getting better by now; there are treatments, potions that would help him but he refuses to accept them. That is his fault, not yours.'

'Well, it answers my next question,' Harry said sadly, deciding to let the subject of blame drop. He wasn't convinced but there was no point in telling Hermione that. 'I understand why you're still with him now. I was going to ask how you were able to put up with his moods but I think that if I were in your position, knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, I would want to help him too.'

They sat and sipped at their drinks in silence for a moment or two before Harry began to feel that he just needed to be anywhere but there. Hermione was going to have to go back to the Burrow and lie about having seen him and something about it made him really uncomfortable. Scraping back his chair, he got to his feet.

'I have to get going or Draco will be wondering where I've gone to,' he said reaching into his money bag and extracting a couple of coins to drop into Tom's Christmas tip jar. He thought it was extremely unlikely that Draco would be wondering anything of the sort, considering how focused he could become when he had piles of homework and no distractions. Really though, he just wanted to be back in his own house and not thinking about Ron any more.

'Of course,' Hermione nodded and Harry noticed the touch of concern around her eyes that told him she was worrying that she might have upset him.

'I'm fine,' he reassured and she allowed herself a small smile. 'Have a good Christmas, and you know where we are if things get too miserable,' he added, leaning forward to place a light kiss against her cheek.

* * *

As the holidays continued, Harry's mood only managed to deteriorate further. Draco asked him several times what was bothering him and Harry simply resorted to slapping on a smile and informing him that it was nothing new. This answer was apparently enough for Draco, who seemed reluctant to push him.

Harry hated the way he was behaving, hated that he felt unable to confide in Draco about all the things that were on his mind. As he watched his boyfriend tiptoe around him, trying not to trigger what were becoming increasingly unstable mood swings, he couldn't help but think that maybe he was just making everyone's life more difficult.

Draco was trying to help, he really was, but somehow he had managed to get sucked into Harry's miasma of grief and was being dragged down along with him. Not that he was surprised; Harry had always managed to drag people into his problems. Maybe Ron had been the smart one after all and when Harry had begun to drag him down the previous year he had done the sensible thing and left.

After all, how had Hermione been rewarded for sticking around? He had dragged her off to Godric's Hollow so that he could sit in a silent churchyard and feel sorry for himself before trying to get them both killed yet again.

Maybe the brave thing to do would be to set Draco free, to encourage him to pursue a life where Harry Potter wouldn't be there to sabotage it with his moods and his moping at every turn. The result was that he was looking forward to Christmas Day even less than he usually did. The idea of having to put on a happy face and to be engaging for the benefit of Teddy, Andie and Draco was making him weary all over.

What was worse was that Draco seemed to be really excited about Christmas and, after what he had told him about his family Christmases, Harry wanted nothing more than for him to have a wonderful day. Unfortunately, he knew that his very presence was at odds with that desire.

They had cuddled in front of the fire with a bottle of wine one evening and Draco had told him about Malfoy family Christmases.

'We would always go to France,' he said with a sigh. 'To Chateau Malfoy in Picardy. We were in the middle of nowhere. In the evenings we would have to sit in my grandmother's formal drawing room and listen, at length, to how wonderful my father was and what was wrong with my mother and how she was clearly turning me soft.'

Harry hugged him closer, wanting, nonsensically, to protect Draco from the harsh words of a long dead grandmother.

'Sounds familiar,' Harry said darkly and Draco looked up at him curiously. Immediately he shut down, pushing the rebellious words away. He didn't want to talk about his Christmases and giving them head space wouldn't do anyone any good at all.

Draco obviously realised that he wasn't going to get anything else from Harry on this subject as he simply offered him a sad smile of solidarity before continuing. 'Were your Christmases rigid and joyless too?' he asked and Harry was pleased to note that the question was rhetorical. 'In the evening we would have to dress up and Grandmother would hold this elaborate ball for all her inbred, decrepit, bigoted friends,' he continued.

'I would be paraded about, having to answering the same questions about my schoolwork and my betrothal over and over again until I was ready to pass out through boredom.'

Harry smiled grimly. 'No, mine weren't quite like that,' he admitted and immediately he kicked himself for allowing Draco a way back into the subject. One of these days he would learn to think before he spoke but it would not be today.

'Tell me,' Draco beseeched and, despite feeling uncomfortably like this was about to become something of a Potter-pity-party, he complied with the simple request.

'Well, I when I was seven it became my job to make Christmas dinner,' he said, looking into the dancing flames of the fire, feeling embarrassed that he was about to share another of the sad tales of his childhood.

'I would get up at five and start preparing the vegetables and the turkey and all that sort of stuff. Then I would have to make coffee and breakfast for when they woke up at about seven. I would serve it whilst they were opening their presents,' he sighed, twisting the stem of his wine glass between his fingers thoughtfully.

'Usually they preferred me out of sight but in this case they liked me to be there so that I could see exactly what they were denying me.'

Draco made a little noise of disgust in his throat but didn't interrupt; perhaps he knew that Harry was ready to take any opportunity available to get out of continuing the rest of the story. He knew he could just leave it there; that story was tragic enough for any number of people but he knew that somehow Draco would know that wasn't it. Still, it wasn't going to stop him from trying.

'Anyway, that was my Christmas day, cooking, serving, cleaning whilst they all sat around and stuffed themselves stupid,' he said, taking a swig of his wine and hoping against hope that Draco had drunk enough to dull his usual perceptiveness. Luck was not on his side that night, though, and Draco simply waited until he'd swallowed.

'And?' he said pointedly.

'And nothing,' Harry replied mildly, still hoping that Draco would let it drop. Draco, however, simply gave him a stern look and Harry folded.

'And, well, Uncle Vernon and Marge were always quite heavy drinkers and at Christmas they would really let themselves go,' he said, reluctant to get to the point. 'And Vernon was always something of a violent drunk,' he finished darkly.

Draco closed his eyes painfully and Harry was certain that he was imagining untold horrors. At this point it was better to give him something real; it wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as what his imagination would create.

'I think I was nine when I risked telling them that they were out of brandy one evening and Vernon flung his glass at me,' he said, choosing the least horrific incident to try to put Draco's mind at rest. Pulling back his fringe, he pointed to the three-inch-long thin scar that he knew ran just below his hairline on the opposite side of his head to his more prominent scar.

'I am continuously amazed that Dumbledore allowed this sort of treatment to continue,' Draco growled and Harry could hear the barely restrained fury in his voice.

'It's okay, Draco, it's in my past; there isn't anything that anyone can do about it now. And besides, everything turned out okay,' he said, running a hand through Draco's silky hair in an attempt to soothe them both. 'You asked and I told you, it's why I don't get that excited by Christmas,' he explained, 'but let's not make more of it that we need to, eh?'

Draco sighed, beaten, and curled himself into the warmth of Harry's side, splaying a hand protectively across his chest.

'Fine,' he pouted. 'But anyone lays a finger on you ever again and I swear, I _will_ kill them.'

* * *

Harry would have liked to be able to say that after his discussion with Draco about the ghosts of Christmas past, he had found it easier to deal with everything else but that would have been a lie and he'd never really been a good liar.

The truth was that ever since Hermione had mentioned the concept of PTSD stimuli, Harry had not been able to shift the idea from his head. No matter which way he cut it, and no matter what Hermione said to reassure him, he was responsible for what was happening to Ron. He couldn't cope because each time he looked at Harry he was reminded of the war and all the things he'd lost.

As Harry sat alone in the study on Christmas Eve, staring blankly at his Transfiguration textbook, he began to wonder just how many other people looked at him and saw nothing but those they had lost. And, if they didn't do so now, would they one day look at him and wonder why it was that their particular family member wasn't saved.

How long would it be before Draco ceased to look at him with loving eyes and warm smiles and instead was reminded of the pain he and his mother had suffered at Riddle's hand? How was anyone supposed to move on with their lives when Harry was a walking reminder of the lives they had once lived?

He tried his best during dinner to lay aside his mood and respond to the warm enthusiasm that had gripped Draco now that Christmas day was so close but it was beyond him. He knew he was sullen and unresponsive but couldn't manage to find his way out of the mire.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' Draco snapped suddenly as Harry began to stack dishes, scraping his hardly touched dinner into the bin.

'Nothing,' Harry muttered and Draco threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

'Do you think I'm stupid, Harry? Really?' Draco asked, the pitch of his voice rising in what Harry was certain was desperation.

'I know you aren't stupid, Draco, I'm sorry, I'm just feeling a little low,' Harry said; his voice was barely more than a whisper as he tried desperately to avoid a fight. The last thing he needed now was to push Draco away too; he may not know it but he was the only thing holding Harry together.

'I don't want your apologies, Harry,' Draco insisted; he was still irritated but his voice had a softer edge to it now. 'I just want you to talk to me, to tell me what's wrong.'

Harry didn't know what to say. There was no way he could tell Draco what was bothering him; he wouldn't understand. Hermione hadn't understood after all; she had just told Harry it wasn't his fault. People had been telling him that things weren't his fault since he was fourteen years old. People were always trying to force him to relinquish the blame for situations in which he was far from blameless and he no longer trusted their opinions.

'I… I can't,' Harry stammered and could barely hear his own voice when he said it.

'You can't?'

Harry shook his head sadly.

'Don't you trust me?' A nervous tone was creeping into Draco's voice now. Harry could hear the fear and hurt as he forced himself to meet Draco's eyes. Draco searched his face and seeing Harry's hesitation, the mask came down, replacing his loving and warm Draco with Malfoy's steely gaze.

Harry's heart sank. He had succeeded in doing the one thing he'd wanted to avoid from the start. He had hurt Draco and seen him pull away from him in front of his eyes. In Harry's mind this confirmed all his suspicions. There would come a day where Draco would find it difficult to look at Harry without being reminded about his past and when that day came, no matter how much he might love Harry, he would withdraw to avoid getting hurt. He had just demonstrated beautifully how easy that would be for him. Harry couldn't help but feel a little glad that Draco would be able to protect himself when the time came.

Right now, though, the icy stare that Draco had currently fixed upon him was making him feel sick. Feeling like more of a coward than he ever had in his life, Harry turned and walked out of Grimmauld Place and into the night.

* * *

As Harry sank to the ground in the silent graveyard, the grass crunched beneath him. It was freezing outside, and a thick frost was already beginning to settle but he didn't feel the cold at all. He looked at the pillars of grey stone before him and allowed his head to fall forwards into his hands as he began to cry, noisy sobs sounding even louder in the silence of the cemetery.

He had no idea what he'd been hoping to achieve back in the kitchen; all he knew was that he had made such a mistake not confiding in Draco from the beginning. Now there was a chance he'd ruined everything by insinuating that this was in some way due to a lack of trust on his part.

Trust was important in all relationships, Harry knew that. He also knew that it was a particularly sensitive issue when it came to Draco and that he had just demonstrated a terrifying lack of empathy with his non-answer.

The most infuriating thing was that it wasn't even true. He did trust Draco. Harry trusted him with his life and he should have been able to trust him with his incoherent ramblings about Ron. He trusted him not to laugh, he trusted him to not just tell him what he wanted to hear but, more than that, he trusted Draco's advice.

'I'm messing everything up,' he murmured as he flopped on to his back. The frosty grass began to melt with his body heat, soaking through the thin fabric of his t-shirt but Harry didn't feel the chill. Instead he stared up at the stars littering the night sky and began to talk, allowing the words to tumble from him unchecked as he told his parents everything that had happened.

'I found someone who sees past all the Chosen One crap, someone who loves me and challenges me and who I love in return and I didn't trust him. I don't get why I did that. He's my everything right now and I pushed him away.' Harry fell silent, continuing to stare upwards and tracing the constellations he remembered from Astronomy. As he followed the jagged shape of Cassiopeia, a thought occurred to him.

'Maybe I didn't trust him so that he _would_ pull away. After all, I can't think of anything else that would have made him do that. Maybe I knew that was the only thing he wouldn't accept. Because there's so much that I know he would help me through, maybe I was trying to use the one thing he wouldn't tolerate.' He paused again as he rubbed at hot, sore eyes.

'But why? Why am I so determined to sabotage myself?' he asked, opening his eyes to the softly twinkling stars. His eyes were pulled to Polaris as it flashed and sparkled brighter than so many others.

'Sometimes,' he began, his voice no more than a whisper. 'Sometimes I think I made completely the wrong decision. I wonder if everyone's lives might have been simpler if I'd just stayed dead. Someone would have killed Riddle, anyone could have done it, it didn't have to be me. I thought I could start again afterwards, build a new life and I was, I was building one with Draco,' he sighed as his eyes came to rest upon his boyfriend's namesake.

'He deserves someone better, someone whole.'

'I don't want someone better, I want you.' Draco's voice drifted through the darkness and Harry sat bolt upright. Draco was standing on the path, looking down at him with red rimmed eyes. Harry could only blink stupidly, his mouth wide. Had he fallen asleep? Was he dreaming? No, he was far too cold to be dreaming.

Draco crunched over the grass towards him. Harry watched as he wrinkled his nose in distaste and sighed before settling himself on the grass.

'I heard what you said… about wishing you hadn't come back,' Draco elaborated, looking straight ahead at the gravestones and speaking into the silence. 'I want to tell you that you're crazy.'

Harry started to protest, wanting him to understand why he felt like that but Draco simply held up a hand for silence and continued.

'If you hadn't come back, Voldemort would have won,' Draco said firmly and for once, Harry didn't try to contradict him, he just listened. 'You are the Master of the Elder wand, if you hadn't come back, possession would have passed to him. Do you really think anyone would have beaten him then?' Draco questioned calmly, as if he were simply pointing out a flaw in Harry's Potions homework.

'But he was mortal, all it would have taken is one stray hex…' Harry trailed off when Draco looked at him with a sceptically raised eyebrow.

'And how long do you think it would have taken him to create another Horcrux, to split his soul once more?'

Harry was stumped; Draco's logic was, as always, irrefutable.

'But let's give you the benefit of the doubt on that one, shall we? What would have happened to my mother and I had you not rescued us from the Aurors? Do you think I would have been better off going to Azkaban?' he asked mildly. There was no sting in the words, they were not meant as an attack and for that Harry was grateful.

'Do you think Andie would have been better off raising Teddy alone? Do you think Teddy would be better off without ever having the chance to know his Godfather?' Draco finished and Harry realised just how much of an idiot he'd been. Once again he had put Ron's needs and whims above his own and even worse, in his opinion, above Draco's.

That was the thing that made him really feel guilty. Ron had been treating his friendship with Harry contemptuously for years. Draco had done nothing but treat Harry with love and respect since this whole thing had started and he was getting the raw end of the deal.

'I'm sorry,' Harry murmured and Draco turned sharp eyes on him immediately, pinning Harry with his gaze.

'I said I didn't want your apologies and I meant it. I know you didn't mean to upset me,' he said firmly. 'What I want you to do is say that our lives, mine, Andie's and Teddy's, are better because you decided to come back from the dead.'

Harry squirmed. That sounded really arrogant to him but then it was what Draco was asking for and Harry did owe him.

'Your life is better because of me,' Harry whispered, blushing furiously.

'Close enough,' Draco said with a small nod and he leaned in to capture Harry's lips in a kiss so tender it took Harry's breath away.

'So, what started all this, anyway?' Draco asked conversationally when he pulled back.

'Hermione told me that Ron's sick, he can't sleep, gets angry because every time he looks at me he relives the war,' Harry sighed. It was still bad, was still his fault but at least he was helping others if he couldn't help Ron. Draco, however, simply made a tsking sound in his throat and rolled his eyes.

'You can't really be allowing the Weasel to blame you for all his problems?' Draco asked, practically spitting the derogatory nickname. Harry obviously paused in giving his answer longer than Draco thought was necessary as he groaned, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation.

'Do you know how hard it is for me to go up on to the Astronomy Tower, Harry?' Draco asked. 'Every time I have Astronomy I see Dumbledore standing there, begging with Snape to kill him, but I don't blame the tower, I don't even avoid it because it is something I just have to over come.' He paused for a moment, trying to gather his composure and Harry turned his words over in his mind.

'I suppose there are potions and treatments he is taking for this condition?' he mused and Harry noticed a shrewd look in his eye.

'He says he doesn't need them,' Harry admitted.

'No, much better that he demonise his oldest friend because of it,' Draco scowled. 'Honestly, that man has centre of the universe issues that would put even my father to shame. You are not responsible for everyone, Harry. Everyone is responsible for their own problems; you've shouldered enough misplaced responsibility for a lifetime.'

'You're right,' Harry muttered as he pulled up a long blade of grass and wrapped it around his finger. 'I know I shouldn't let it bring me down like this but every time I think about it I feel like I'm being callous, not caring.'

'I can't ask you to stop feeling like that, Harry, we can't control the way we feel about something after all,' Draco said, reaching up to brush the hair out of Harry's face. 'But I will ask that you try to realise, at least logically, that he is not your responsibility and that you need to **talk to me**,' Draco asserted, punctuating the last three words with harsh prods to Harry's chest.

'I promise,' Harry responded, placing his hand over Draco's where it was now resting over his heart.

'Good,' Draco nodded firmly. 'Now let's get out of here, you're fucking freezing.'

Suddenly, Harry noticed that Draco was right. His thin t-shirt was soaked through and was icy against his skin. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around himself as he followed Draco back to the path and, with a last glance at the heavens, whispered the thank you on his lips.

'There's one more place I want to go,' Harry requested and Draco acquiesced with a slight bow that invited Harry to lead the way.

'How did you know where to find me?' Harry asked lightly, as they walked side by side back towards the main street.

'I asked Hermione where you might have gone,' Draco responded simply. He glanced sideways at Harry who was now shivering rather violently and slid out of his coat, holding it up for Harry to put on.

'You asked Hermione? But she's at the Burrow,' he pointed out, sliding his arms into the heavy wool coat. The Draco-scented warmth which surrounded him was delicious and Harry let out a contented little sigh.

'That's right, but they are on the Floo Network so I Fire-called them,' Draco said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which Harry supposed it was. Still:

'You Fire-called the Burrow at eleven o'clock on Christmas Eve?' he asked, rather surprised.

'I was distraught, alright?' Draco sounded a little defensive but then Harry supposed he'd probably surprised even himself with his actions. 'I wasn't thinking straight, luckily Ginny was in the kitchen so she went and got Hermione and she told me you might come here.'

'She's a smart one, that Hermione,' Harry said proudly as they stepped through the kissing gate and Harry crossed towards the war memorial. Sliding the piece of grass he had plucked earlier from his pocket, he Transfigured it into a lily to place at the base of the monument. Pressing his lips together and screwing up his eyes, Harry fought against the tears that were threatening to fall. After a long moment Draco stepped up behind him, wrapping arms around his waist.

'They would be proud of you, you know?' he whispered and Harry smiled.

'I know,' he responded and, blinking away the tears, he glanced around the village surrounding them.

White lights were strung though the trees that lined the main road and the frost had settled so thickly now that every surface glittered and sparkled. In the nearby church he could hear the echo of the congregation singing carols for midnight mass. For the first time in his life, Harry knew what people meant when they talked about the magic of Christmas. He turned in Draco's embrace to wrap his arms around him just as the church clock began to strike midnight.

He had intended to kiss him, to show him just how much he loved him, right here in the centre of Godric's Hollow. But, as the chimes rang through the night, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked into Draco's eyes, burning with the unspoken declarations that both were aching to make. They continued just holding each other and staring till the final chime struck.

'Merry Christmas, Harry,' Draco murmured, breaking the silence.

'Merry Christmas,' Harry repeated, the words spoken into Draco's lips before he finally kissed him once more and Apparated them both home.

Harry had no idea how they managed to negotiate the stairs to their room. Draco seemed to guide him with certainty but Harry couldn't see how he was so certain when his lips didn't leave Harry's at any point.

Before he knew it, Draco's hands were pulling off the coat and blunt fingernails were grazing across his back before he was divested of his damp t-shirt. Draco's hands were everywhere, their loving caresses covering every inch of his body as they fell, as one, to the bed. Their mouths still caught in the lazy slide of tongues as he re-explored the familiar and comforting heat of Draco's mouth.

Draco's fingers were on his waistband, already beginning to work at the fastening of his jeans, but Harry wasn't ready for that yet. He wanted more of Draco, needed to feel smooth, heated skin against his own, and he struggled to remove Draco's sweater, immediately pressing closer to the newly exposed skin.

Draco groaned as Harry scraped his fingernails across bare shoulders and his mouth abandoned Draco's to begin attacking his throat. Kissing and nibbling at the delicate skin he found there, Harry delighted when he felt the pulse skip beneath his tongue.

His attentions caused Draco to whimper slightly and Harry, pressing his momentary control, rolled him on to his back. Harry allowed his hands to skate across his warm, smooth stomach to Draco's jeans and quickly worked them open, releasing his arousal. Immediately Harry wrapped his hand around it and began long, languid strokes that quickly had Draco gasping for breath.

Draco began to tug ineffectually at Harry's belt, clearly wanting Harry naked too, but unable to summon the dexterity to manage it. Eager to comply, Harry pulled back and, whilst Draco threw out a hand to rummage blindly in his beside drawer, he divested himself of jeans and underwear and removed Draco's from where they had settled around his thighs.

Draco's hands were back, pulling Harry in closer to kiss him again and again as their cocks began to slide against one another, creating a friction which Harry simultaneously couldn't bear and never wanted to end. When Draco finally pulled away again, leaving Harry breathless and dizzy, a familiar vial had been pressed into to his hand.

'Need you,' Draco pleaded and through the half darkness Harry could see the silver eyes burning with want. Harry neither was able, nor wanted, to look away as he slicked his fingers with the oil and lowered a hand to circle Draco's entrance before sliding a finger deep inside.

He watched Draco's face intently as he added a second finger. Draco's lip was caught, revealing a row of prefect white teeth and slowly he began to relax under Harry's touch. He gasped when Harry brushed against that sensitive spot inside him but he did not close his eyes, did not break the contact.

'Please,' he whispered, his voice low and raspy and the sound of desperation in the plea went straight to Harry's cock. He withdrew his fingers before slicking himself, eager to do as Draco asked. He slid inside Draco in one smooth stroke and had to stop to prevent himself from coming at once. Hands flew up to grip firmly at Harry's shoulders and Harry began to move, keeping his strokes long and slow as he and Draco continued to gaze into each other's eyes.

Harry felt surrounded by Draco. The warmth of his touch seemed to be ghosting over ever inch of his skin and Draco's quiet, breathless moans were in his ears. The familiar minty scent mingled with the smell of sex and sweat and flooded his nose and still silver eyes were fixed on green.

Harry's orgasm built slowly, a gentle warmth curling about the base of his spine until he hovered on the edge, desperately straining to keep his control. Draco was close too; his eyes had taken on the pleading look of someone who was only holding on by a thread.

Harry slid a hand between them, palming Draco's cock and allowing the smooth, sticky skin to slide easily through his fist. He watched as Draco's eyes opened impossibly wide and his orgasm crashed over him and then Harry was falling, Draco's impossible tightness and heat combining to coax Harry's own climax from him.

As the sensation finally receded, Harry fell to his side, curling into Draco and seeking out the warmth he knew he would find there.

'This is already the best Christmas ever,' Harry murmured into the slick, salty skin of Draco's shoulder. 'I love you, Draco.'

Fingers under his chin tilted his face up to receive Draco's kiss, just a simple brush of soft lips against his own.

'I love you too,' Draco returned before dragging the duvet over them and snuggling down to sleep.


	19. Chapter 18 Salad Days

Disclaimer- None of these characters are mine though some of the characteristics are based on someone who is.

A/N- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know that at the beginning I promised weekly updates and that now it has been six months since my last one but life got a little crazy on me there for a while. I started writing this chapter the moment I'd moved in with my girlfriend and unpacked but unfortunately by then I'd managed to lose the thread of the story and it took time and all the tricks in my arsenal to get myself over the writer's block.

I got there in the end however and now I present you with a brand new chapter. I can't promise that there will be one at the same time next week as I'm currently looking hard for a job and it's taking a bit of my time then of course when I get a job that will be taking my time instead but I can promise that I won't let it be too long before I get the next chapter up.

As always thanks to my beautiful girlfriend saras_girl for patiently reading this chapter every step of the way and reassuring me that it wasn't total tripe and then for discovering the commas sprinkled liberally throughout my work and putting them in the right places.

This chapter is for pirson as a thank-you for the amazing gift she sent me. It was beautiful sweetheart. x

_Chapter 18 – Salad Days_

_The clock's ticking but I don't mind__  
__Because there's no one else I'd rather share my time__  
__And I've no idea where those weeks gone when__  
__Yet I know that it's time well spent._

_Time Well Spent – Tom Felton_

'We propose that when Ms Skeeter stated in the _Daily Prophet_ of November 3rd 1996 that my client Mr Malfoy had been a Death Eater, she was in breach of the 1996 Incitement to Hatred Act which legally restricts the use of the term "Death Eater" to those who have been convicted of willfully following the orders of the wizard known as Lord Voldemort, He who Shall Not Be Named, The Dark Lord or You Know Who.'

Draco leant back in against the hard wooden bench and tried to will himself to relax. He did not want to be intimidated by Rita Skeeter, but her unwillingness to meet their demands of an apology as prominent as the original article and a promise not to pursue Harry or Draco for the next five years, meant that they were now sitting in the courtroom that Draco had hoped furiously that they might have avoided, listening to people talk about how he had helped during the war.

To be honest, Andie and Hermione had been both been trying since just after Christmas to play down his expectation of a settlement. When he thought that it would be Harry that was the focus of the case he had been all for this action; after all, the wizarding world owed Harry for saving their collective arses. As time went on, however, it had become apparent that Harry had very little case against the paper and that to achieve their desired result Draco was going to have to be at the centre of this case.

He had hoped at least that Harry would have been allowed to sit beside him during the proceedings but it turned out that unless Harry was involved in either the legal team or was named as a plaintiff he would be forced to sit in the public gallery and simply wait patiently until Andie called him forward as a witness. Hermione was sitting with him, though, and it was her warm, soft hand that he felt resting reassuringly on his leg as he fought the desire to twist in his seat and search out comforting green eyes.

It seemed to Draco he'd seen less and less of those eyes in the last few months as the responsibilities both of them shouldered had combined to overwhelm them slightly. The preparation for the case had of course taken a lot of time and Draco had hoped that at least could have been something they could have done together but, as it turned out, it had eaten up far more time that he had imagined and Harry had been able to attend only half of the strategy sessions with him.

Harry being Harry, of course, had offered to attend them all but to do so he would have had to ignore the demands of both the Head Boy position and Quidditch Captain and Draco had simply refused to allow him to do this, insisting that he could manage perfectly well on his own. This was, of course, true; he didn't _need _Harry there as such but it didn't mean he didn't wish that every time he kissed good bye to a Harry clad in his Quidditch leathers and an apologetic expression, he could be a little more selfish and demand Harry's presence at his side.

He might have given in to this temptation a couple of times had the Gryffindor team not taken quite such a mauling in January. He knew that it was counterintuitive for him to care whether the team won their next match or not. After all, as a Slytherin, surely he should be all for undermining the team's integrity but in reality it was important to Harry and so it was important to him. So, when Harry had reported that Demelza had broken he ankle so badly that she would be unable to play Quidditch until after Easter he had been sympathetic and had sat up until all times of the night with Harry as he tried to fill her spot on the team.

When, in the first week of February, Ginny had also quit the team, Draco had been furious on Harry's behalf. He may not have been the Weaselette's biggest fan but there was no doubt that she was a good player and it had baffled and angered him that she had been able to abandon her team at such a crucial time. Apparently she had claimed that she was falling behind in her work but Draco didn't buy this for a moment and in true Slytherin style he had sought out the gossip in the hope of at least providing Harry with a reason for why he was now having to give up his Saturday mornings to train two new Chasers.

He couldn't help but be surprised when he discovered from a particularly well clued-in second year Slytherin that the reason the Weaselette had quit the team had less to do with her school work and more to with her moronic boyfriend. Apparently Smith had declared that it would be bad for the two of them play against each other and as some fool had seen fit to make him the Hufflepuff Captain, Ginny had been forced to resign her position in the team.

Draco had found himself rather disappointed with this reason. Regardless of how he felt about her personally he had always grudgingly admired the girls pluck. In the end he had decided not to tell Harry what he had found out. It was only conjecture, after all, and with Harry's hero complex Draco couldn't be certain he wouldn't have seen it as his responsibility to separate Ginny from the overbearing Smith. He'd felt a little guilty about this at the time but had reassured himself that no good ever came from messing in people's personal relationships and so had made the decision to leave well alone. They had enough to worry about at the moment without that as well.

'Mr Malfoy is willing to admit that he bears the Dark Mark,' Andie was saying next to him in response to some accusation thrown out by the defense as Draco attempted to drag his attention back to the matter at hand. 'It was a sacrifice that he made and he put it to good use in order to help the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix in their endeavors to bring about the downfall of the tyrant known as Voldemort.

The sneer that appeared on the defense attorney's face did nothing to improve his already unpleasant features. The man was small and squat with a round paunchy face. A few ratty looking hairs had been scraped across his bald pate which like the rest of his face was shining with perspiration. When he looked at him Draco was reminded forcefully of Peter Pettigrew and as a result he had to fight to keep the contemptuous sneer off of his face. Apart from their stature the two men didn't look especially alike but in their simpering, smarmy natures the two men could have been brothers.

'But how do we know this, Ms Tonks?' he began, and Draco wished that he could remember the man's name; he thought it might have begun with an M. 'As far as the public is aware, the Ministry of Magic simply failed to prosecute Mr Malfoy. Ms Skeeter was simply providing a public service, letting the wizarding world know that one of the Dark Lord's chosen servants had slipped through the net and was now in a perfect position to continue in his master's plans to bring about the end of Mr Potter.

'Mr Potter, of course, cannot be blamed for believing the young man's story of reform, his desire to give Mr Malfoy another chance is admirable if naïve but considering their continued personal relationship, Mr Potter's judgment is far from unbiased in this case. We have sworn testimony that Mr Potter has been infatuated with Mr Malfoy since he was sixteen years old. Unfortunately this witness is otherwise detained and unable to appear before this court today, however if you will allow me to read this notified transcript…'

'Objection,' Andie's voice was calm and authoritative as she rose from the bench beside him and Draco exhaled slowly. The last thing he needed right now was for the Ministry to reconsider their position. Andie had assured him that this was impossible. That the pardon could not be retracted; however, Draco remained unconvinced. If the _Prophet_ managed to whip up enough negative public opinion of him with this trial he was certain they would do what they had always done and go with the most popular idea.

'The reason that the defence's witness is unable to appear here today is that Mr Goyle is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban and was put there thanks to information provided to the Ministry by Mr Malfoy. Information which has been verified by the Ministry. Mr Goyle's account is pure conjecture and has no place in this courtroom.'

'Sustained! Mr Michaels, you should know better than that,' said the judge, his voice demonstrating his boredom with the whole affair. Draco couldn't suppress the tiny hopeful smile which forced its way onto his face as Skeeter began whispering nervously to Michaels and he didn't miss the look of panic that whisked across her face. This was very good indeed; if they were this worried there was every chance that the hearing might be concluded today.

They had all hoped that the actual trial might not take too long. It had been scheduled for the last day of the Easter Holidays and though he would have been able to continue to attend any subsequent sessions, there had been a question mark over whether Harry would have been able to take the time away from school to accompany him, unless he was required to give testimony.

In a rash moment of Gryffindor optimism Harry had arranged for all of their friends to join them for dinner at Grimmauld Place on the Friday night to celebrate the end of the case. Now it was beginning to look like his confidence might not have been as misplaced as Draco feared, not that he was going to tell Harry that.

'Please continue with your defence, Mr Michaels, we would like to get out of here sometime today,' the judge said impatiently and Draco watched carefully as Michaels gave Skeeter a sceptical look before turning back to the bench.

'Of course, your Honour,' he began and Draco was pleased to hear a slight quiver in his voice as he spoke. 'We would also like to contest Ms Skeeter's personal liability in this matter. We have here a signed document from Professor Cassius Cannock detailing Mr Malfoy's status as a Death Eater and providing the photographs of himself and Mr Potter.'

Draco felt the blood drain from his face even as he felt Harry's angry magic begin to swirl about the room, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. Deciding that a moment's fidgeting would be a much smaller distraction to the court than Harry declaring a crusade against Cannock and storming out, Draco turned ever so slightly in his seat and met Harry's furious gaze, trying to calm him with his eyes alone.

It seemed as though he was at least partially successful as the prickle of angry magic drew back and Harry seemed to rein himself in; still, Draco didn't like to think what might happen to Cannock if he was still at Hogwarts when Harry returned. Undoubtedly he would emerge from the inevitable confrontation rather more slug-shaped than he had entered it.

Turning back, he glanced at the copy of the document that Andie had been passed. It was indeed a letter from Cannock providing details of his and Harry's relationship, appealing to Skeeter to help him see that Draco was exposed for the Death Eater he was and providing pictures of Harry and Draco together. Draco felt the fury he had experienced at the initial article as he looked down at the picture of himself and Harry in the greenhouse, knowing how special and private a moment the photographer had intruded upon.

'We propose that it is not Ms Skeeter but Professor Cannock who should be defending himself against the Incitement to Hatred Act. This was simply a vox pop piece and Ms Skeeter cannot be held responsible for the opinions contained within it.' Michaels paused for effect and puffed out his chest, obviously thinking that he might have finally been able to claw back some ground. Draco was not convinced, however; he recognised the expression on the judge's face it was similar to one that Lucius would use when dealing with a particularly stupid person. 'Defence rests, your Honour,' he said before stalking back to his seat. The smug expression was back on his face but there was an air of uncertainty about it which had not existed before.

'Ms Tonks, do you have anything to add?' the judge asked, turning from Michaels with a small disbelieving shake of his head.

'Only this, your Honour,' Andie said, rising from her seat. Her confidence was palpable now, as she stepped calmly towards the bench. 'The defence has failed to counter any testimony or claims made by the plaintiff. We have provided expert witnesses in the form of members of the Auror department, whom Mr Malfoy worked with immediately following the war as well as testimony from Harry Potter himself who detailed the ways in which Mr Malfoy helped to bring about the fall of Lord Voldemort. All that the defence has provided in response is a claim that Ms Skeeter was not responsible for the article, a story which might be believable had her by-line not appeared at the top of the story. In addition we would like to point out that Professor Cannock's opinion, whilst misinformed, was his own and relatively harmless until Ms Skeeter saw fit to give it a front page and pass it off as news. There is no doubt that the professor has behaved irresponsibly and unethically and I do not doubt that the Ministry will seek to punish him for these transgressions but it in no way relieves Ms Skeeter of her own culpability in this matter.'

'Thank you, Ms Tonks. This court stands in recess until three pm, at which time we shall reconvene and I shall give my verdict.' With that, everyone rose from their seats as the judge left for his chambers and Draco had to force himself not to run to Harry's side. Decorum was essential at the moment; the Malfoy mask was the only thing keeping his rage at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor from turning him into a jabbering mess.

He headed straight towards where Harry was edging out of his row. They didn't speak as they exited the court room and made their way towards the Ministry canteen. Harry didn't need to say anything, however, for Draco to know that his earlier anger had far from dissipated and that he was simply waiting until they were seated so that they could put up a privacy charm which would allow him to vent in peace.

Harry managed to wait until Draco had placed a jacket potato in front of each of them and erected a silencing charm with a flick of his wand before his anger broke forth.

'I wish I could say that I can't believe he did that, but I think I'm more angry because I'm just not surprised,' Harry growled, shaking salt onto his potato aggressively. 'What I can't believe is that we're still having these incompetent teachers foisted on us. Out of all of the teachers we've had in this subject, there are only two that have been competent teachers,' he raged and Draco listened patiently, letting him blow off steam.

'I can't help but wonder what kind of criteria these teachers are expected to meet in order to get these positions,' Harry said, viciously stabbing at his potato whilst Draco remained silent, allowing him to rant. 'I mean Quirrell had Riddle stuck to the back if his head, Lockhart didn't know the difference between Crucio and Colloportus, Moody was Crouch and Umbridge physically tortured students in her care and now there is Cannock. Until recently I just thought he was an arrogant bully but after today...' Harry trailed off, his rant finally running out of steam.

Draco had no idea how to respond. Harry was right, after all; everything he said was true. As students it was crucial for them to be able to trust their teachers. Draco also knew that what had angered Harry wasn't so much that Cannock had betrayed them; after all, Harry expected his privacy to be invaded, his life had never really been his own. But with Cannock being in a position of authority with so many other vulnerable young wizards in his care, what else might he be willing to do to make a quick Galleon?

'I know,' Draco said, reaching out fingers to brush across Harry's empty hand, which was now clenched into a fist and resting on the table. A haunted green gaze rose to meet his own and he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 'McGonagall will deal with him, Harry,' he insisted. 'She won't let him get away with this.'

Harry twisted his hand beneath Draco's fingers and returned the half smile before returning his attention to his lunch. They continued to eat in silence for a while ,Draco watching Harry carefully as he showed small signs of relaxing. It wasn't until he'd finished eating that he decided to speak again.

'What time is everyone turning up tonight?' Draco asked, trying to keep them on a conversation that would prevent Harry from continuing his rant about Cannock. It wasn't that he didn't agree with everything that Harry was saying but there was no point in allowing him to concentrate on it as it wouldn't do either of them any good.

'About eight, should be good. I'll be really glad to see the back of all this court stuff, it feels like I haven't spent a full day with you in forever,' Harry whined.

Draco couldn't help but smile a little at that.

'What?' Harry asked, unconsciously mirroring Draco's smile, causing it to widen. 'Seriously, what is it? You're starting to freak me out!'

'I was just thinking about the ghosts of Easter holidays past, and how I'm sure you would have seen it as a welcome break from having to see me every day and now it's a good excuse to see more of me.'

'What can I say?' Harry responded, his grin turning lecherous. 'These days, the more of you that I can see, the better.'

Draco groaned and shoved at Harry's shoulder appalled at this pathetic attempt at seductive.

'C'mon, Don Juan, we need to get back in there,' Draco asserted, rising and smoothing down his robes whilst Harry allowed his head to fall heavily to the table with a thunk. Draco allowed himself a moment to tangle his fingers in the soft black curls before prodding and goading Harry to his feet.

XxX

'Andie told me that she's rarely seen a judge that angry; thank you,' Hermione said, accepting the steaming cup of tea from Draco as Harry bustled about the stove, putting the finishing touches to the moussaka he was making for the evening's meal.

'Draco, do you think you could take the moussaka out in half an hour? I want to go and take a shower and change before the others get here.'

The back Draco's neck prickled with apprehension at being left in charge of the meal. Whilst Harry cooked he was often to be found sitting at the kitchen table offering 'helpful' suggestions but in truth he knew that he was talking garbage and only did it because it was mildly entertaining to wind Harry up and now his corrective commentary had become tradition. He never expected Harry to test his non-existent skills; he thought he had made the extent of his cooking abilities very clear.

'Urrrrm,' was all that Draco could manage in response. Next to him, Hermione huffed with amusement.

'I'll keep an eye on it for you, Harry,' Hermione offered with a roll of her eyes and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Harry, however, looked less than convinced. 'I don't believe it, you're thinking about last year, aren't you?'

Harry didn't respond but his disbelief was now edged with a touch of shame. 'Well, you have to admit, 'Mione, it was pretty disgusting,' Harry said with what Draco recognised as his most reassuring smile.

'I was working with nothing at all,' she said, her voice rising until she was practically squealing and Draco found himself wincing against the piercing sound.

'All right, all right, but if it burns, you're getting the takeaway in,' Harry retorted, turning to bound up the kitchen steps in two long strides. Draco knew it was an empty threat but couldn't help but wonder what it was that Hermione could possibly have done that would result in Harry being willing to trust Draco with the meal rather than her. The situation must have been dire indeed.

'What was all that about?' Draco asked, the moment he heard the creak of the pipes that indicated Harry had started the shower. Hermione blushed slightly.

'I don't know how much he's told you about last year,' Hermione began, slightly nervously.

'A fair bit,' Draco said with a shrug: they rarely sat and talked about it the way they had at the beginning but Harry had never been shy about expanding if asked about something that came up in conversation.

'Well, while we were on the run we were living off the land. Harry would catch fish or the occasional rabbit, I would track down mushrooms or fruit and we would eat that. There was only so much that could be done with it to be honest.'

'Yeah, but Harry's an excellent cook, why didn't he do it?' Draco asked with a frown.

'Because Harry doesn't know the first thing about cooking with magic. Hadn't you ever noticed how none his food is ever transfigured or replicated or anything like that? Everything that Harry makes is always cooked the Muggle way. Which is a real shame, because I'm a shocking cook,' Hermione said with a grin.

'So we are going to burn the dinner then?' Draco asked, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

'Well, we shall see, won't we? Do you know where he keeps the take-out menus just in case?'

XxX

'At the risk of sounding uncouth,' George said, leaning back in his chair and raising his now refilled glass, 'I would like to propose a toast.' There was a flurry of movement as everyone rushed to refill their glasses. 'To the firing of incompetent professors, to the soul of journalism and to these two lads adding another six thousand Galleons to their already substantial fortune and never having to work a day in their lives. I shall think enviously of you both every time I am forced from my bed at five in the morning on a frosty December day. To justice,' he cried and immediately the toast began to echo about the warm comfortable dining room, interspersed with laughter.

Draco lounged back in his chair and drew his feet up underneath him, trying to remember the last time he had felt this content. His friends were arrayed about the table, a strange mix of Gryffindors and Slytherins, and for the first time in his life he hadn't wondered even once what they were hoping to get out of their friendship. This was the first time with the exception of perhaps Pansy that his friendships had been based entirely on compatibility and affection and it was all kinds of strange and welcome.

Beside him, Harry casually reached out a hand to cover his own and Draco felt the smile on his face stretch into a grin.

'Well, you can be jealous of _him_ if you like,' Harry said lazily as he inclined his head towards Draco. 'Give it a few years and I imagine that frosty December morning will see me finishing a twenty-four hour shift or something else equally horrific. As I understand it, trainee Healers don't get a lot of time off,' Harry offered with a smile.

'So you're actually going to work?' Theo asked with a note of disbelief in his voice. Draco knew what surprised him: as pure bloods, their parents' ambitions had always been to have enough money to allow them the freedom to work for various charitable causes during the winter and then spend the summer months holidaying in some Mediterranean country. The only jobs that they took were those that would benefit the family in some way, jobs in politics or as governors for illustrious organizations. The idea of someone with the capital that Harry had taking a position as overlooked as a Healer was a completely foreign concept to Theo.

'Yeah, I couldn't handle just sitting around all day, I'm not that good at sitting around, am I Draco?' Harry asked, nudging their shoulders together playfully.

'Not unless there's Potions homework to be done,' Draco quipped back. 'What about you, Theo? What are you going to do after the dreaded exams?'

Theo hung his head slightly as if considering whether or not he really wanted to tell them.

'Well, I was thinking about opening a restaurant,' he admitted, lifting his chin in what Draco recognised as a statement of defiance.

'You want to be a chef?' Neville asked with a note of surprise and Draco couldn't blame him; aside from the praise he had heaped on Harry for the night's meal, Theo had never seemed to show a special interest in food.

'Merlin, no!' Theo exclaimed, shaking his head furiously, the exaggerated movement betraying the amount of wine he had managed to consume. 'I can't cook to save my life, but I know what I like, and I know how to host a party. I've got the money for the premises and the staff, I'm going to do a short course at Viaticus Res just to get the business stuff.'

'We'll be right next door to each other,' Hermione enthused, her cheeks glowing slightly in the candle light. She too had consumed a fair amount of wine by this point. 'Orolex and Viaticus have a few shared classes.'

'Well, I'm only going to be there a couple of days a week,' Theo said apologetically, 'the rest of the time I'll be on site setting up the restaurant, once I have the premises.'

'I'll try and keep an ear open for you amongst the alley-ers,' George said helpfully. 'I know old Mrs Braintree has been talking about kicking it all in since we set up shop.'

'Meanwhile whilst you're all based in London I'll be somewhere in the middle of Cumbria, knee-deep in dragon dung,' Neville said poutily.

'Ah, you're off to the Auctus Academy, are you?' Katie asked. 'Leanne went there, she's loving it. She wants to go off and work with dragons. George has already spoken to Charlie so that she can head out to Romania and volunteer during the summer holidays.'

'Well, I have no idea where I shall be working or what I shall be doing,' Millicent declared with some extravagant hand gestures that were most uncharacteristic for her and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, someone else who had not yet planned out the next five years of their life.

'I received my provisional acceptance to join the Unspeakable training scheme yesterday,' she said proudly.

'To Millie and who knows what!' George declared, thrusting his glass towards the ceiling and slopping a copious amount onto his lap in the process. Cries of 'To Millie' followed with everyone drinking deeply once again.

'So, we know what everyone else is doing now, what about you, Draco?' Katie asked and one by one his friends' eyes began to turn to him. Suddenly he felt fidgety and his shirt collar felt far too tight. What was he going to do next year? There was no way that he could spend all day sitting at home alone whilst Harry was at school, that would quickly get boring, but there was nothing that he could seriously consider devoting his life to.

A firm pressure on his fingers told him that Harry sensed his discomfort.

'Why, he's going to be a dilettante, of course,' Harry joked and the room was filled with laughter once more. Then before Katie could recover and push Draco for a serious answer, Harry piped up again. 'I know, why don't we play a game,' he suggested, snatching up a wine bottle from the table and peering inside it to confirm it was empty whilst people murmured their agreement.

'Right,' Harry said, the hint of a wicked look in his eye as he held up the bottle for everyone to see. 'Listen to what I say and then I'll pass the bottle on and you repeat what I said and add your own ending.' He received a room full of curious stares in return but shook them off. 'I promise it will make sense in the end.' He grinned and cleared his throat and began.

'This is Piggy, I love Piggy, I'm going to kiss Piggy on the... lips,' he finished, turning the bottle on its end and kissing the rim of the bottle and holding it out to Draco. 'You also love Piggy,' he said with all the seriousness he could muster. 'Why don't you show Piggy how much you love him?'

Draco simply raised an eyebrow at this; he had the distinct feeling that he was being tricked but at the same time he had no desire to be a spoilsport now that Harry had so admirably managed to distract everyone from the subject of his future career.

'This is Piggly, I love Piggly, To prove it I shall kiss Piggly on the snout,' he said, kissing the bottle just above where Harry had and passing it on to Millie.

'This is apparently Piggy,' Millie recited, blushing slightly with embarrassment, 'and I love Piggy. To prove it, I'm going to kiss Piggy on the...' she paused, considering her options and turning the bottle in her hands. 'Neck,' she said, kissing the bottle's neck.

'Why, hello there, Piggy,' said Neville enthusiastically, taking the bottle from Millie. 'I love you Piggy, I'm going to kiss you on your lovely pink belly.' He passed it on to Katie and Draco saw Harry out of the corner of his eye trying to suppress a grin.

Katie looked slightly bemused as she repeated the mantra and opted to kiss Piggy on the ear but as Draco had expected there was no hint of embarrassment when George took the bottle from his girlfriend.

'Oh, my beautiful Piggy, I love you so very much. Let us run away together and I shall spend all day kissing your beautiful bottom,' he said with zeal before passing the bottle tenderly to Theo.

Theo apparently recognised a challenge when he heard one.

'Ah, mon petit cochon, j'adore vu. Courons loin les uns avec autres et laissons George. Pour prouver mon amour, j'embrasserai vos pieds,' he said, then with a haughty look at George, 'It is the language of love, you know?'

It took a little while for Harry to be heard over the laughter. 'In English as well, for those of us who don't speak the language of love?'

Draco didn't even realise he'd muttered 'you seem to do alright considering' until peals of laughter were bouncing around the room and Harry was looking at him with an amused eyebrow raised. Apparently Draco, too, had drunk more than he had realised. Determined to own his slip of the tongue, however, he simply shrugged and grinned. 'Well, you do! And Theo kissed Piggly's trotter.'

It took a good couple of minutes before the group was quiet enough for them to hear Hermione's pledge of affection for the "pig" and offer it a kiss on the tail before handing it back to Harry.

'Well, it seems we all love Piggy,' said Harry, taking the bottle and placing it back on the table in front of him. 'But we also love each other and to prove it I shall kiss you,' he turned to Draco, 'on the lips,' he asserted and before Draco could fully process what had been said he had a lapful of very affectionate Gryffindor and Harry was swiping Draco's bottom lip with his tongue and trying for an even deeper kiss.

A cheer came from somewhere around the table accompanied by more giggles as Draco fought the automatic urge to press back into Harry and begin pulling desperately at his clothes. When Harry finally pulled back, Draco knew that he had a somewhat dazed expression on his face as Harry grinned and fully explained the twist in the game.

Millie looked somewhat worried as Draco turned to her, and recited the new set of words, 'I love you as much as Piggly,' he said dourly. 'And to prove it I shall kiss your snout too!' The girl spluttered with outrage at Draco's description of her nose and, determined not to do anything by half, Draco wet his lips before placing a loud sloppy kiss on the tip of Millie's nose, causing her to grimace and swipe a hand across her face.

'Thanks for that, Draco,' she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she tried to hide the blush now creeping across her cheeks as she turned to Neville. The quick peck on the neck seemed to raise a lot more embarrassment in Neville than kissing Katie on the tummy did but then, Draco mused, that was probably because Neville kissing Katie had meant nothing at all whereas with Millie, it was probably the precursor to a lot more intimate kissing to take place at a later date.

Katie flushed a little as well when she realised that her decision to kiss piggy on the ear would very effectively draw attention to the fact that in order to kiss George on the ear she was going to have to approach him from the other side.

This was nothing, however, to Theo's embarrassment as he rose from his chair and bent over, displaying his bottom to George. George, being George, was not satisfied with this however and decided that since everyone else had kissed bare flesh it was only fair that he and Theo followed suit and, grabbing the waist band of Theo's loose fitting jeans, he tugged. exposing a pure white buttock and planted a loud smacking kiss right in the centre.

Hermione happily pulled off her high heeled shoe and extended a foot to Theo after he had stuttered his way through his piece. Clearly deciding that nothing could be more humiliating than having his buttock kissed by George Weasley, he slid from his chair onto his knees and took Hermione's foot in his hand before trailing a row of small kisses from ankle to toe.

Hermione appeared to turn slightly green when Harry stood up and turned his back on her. ' This feels disturbingly like incest,' she complained before darting forward and placing a light kiss on the small of Harry's back .

'Hey,' George yelled, outraged, 'that wasn't his tail, that was his back. If I had to kiss Theo's butt you have to do it properly too!'

'It was close enough,' muttered Harry, who was apparently in agreement with Hermione.

'Oh, no you don't,' Theo said, shaking his head 'This game was your idea!'

'How about coffee?' Harry suggested quickly, apparently trying to change the subject again but Draco could tell by the look that passed between Theo and George that Harry wasn't going to be able to get away with that again. Theo and George were out of their seats with lightning speed and were grabbing Harry by the arms, restraining him. Neville decided that he wanted in on the action too and came round to yank up Harry's shirt and point to a spot just above the waistband of his low slung jeans.

'That's his tailbone, right there,' he said pointedly to Hermione who was now blushing beet red. 'Cool tattoo by the way,' he added to the still struggling Harry, which prompted Millie and Katie to get out of their chairs as well and move round till they could see the magnificent Phoenix displayed across his back.

'Draco,' Harry whined, clearly expecting help.

'Don't look at me,' he responded, leaning back in his chair and laughing as Harry managed to struggle his way into an even more compromising position. 'You got yourself into this mess.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' Hermione chuckled at last, 'let's get this over with.' She leaned forward and placed a kiss right where Neville was pointing. Satisfied, Theo and George released Harry at the exact same moment, causing him to sprawl on to the floor.

'You'd better not mention this to Ron,' George chuckled to Hermione. 'I don't think he'd be all that understanding, do you?'

'No, I don't think he would,' Hermione replied, trying to keep her tone light but unable to hide the pain that flitted across her face.

Eventually Harry managed to brush himself off and, with only mild damage done to his pride, he began to make coffee whilst leaving it to Draco to usher the group of friends into the front room so that they could settle around the fire and escape the chill that crept in with the setting of the sun.

As he sank into his favourite armchair, Draco was overcome with a tremendous sense of wellbeing that had been sadly missing for the past few months. The rich scent of coffee mixed with the spicy fragrance from the wood which had been stacked by the fire and he breathed deeply, settling in to the creaking leather cushions. Around him he could see his friends also getting comfortable, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fire. Neville had clearly decided to take a chance and had squashed himself onto the sofa alongside Millie, extending his arm along the back cushions under the pretence of needing more room.

A bubble of laughter rose in Draco's chest at the transparent manoeuvre and he was hard pressed to restrain himself. Knowing that an outburst of random laughter would need to be explained, and if Neville and Millie were ever going to sort themselves out it was going to require everyone to pretend like nothing at all was happening, he bit his lip.

Luckily, Harry chose this moment to arrive with the coffee and Draco hid his smile in the mug he was passed. Left without a seat, Harry dropped casually to the floor and leaned back against Draco's knees, wriggling until he was satisfied with his position and causing Draco to hold his mug out to the side to prevent himself from ending up with a lap full of steaming hot coffee.

'Are you done?' Draco asked sardonically and Harry leaned his head back, offering Draco his broadest, most ingratiating smile. Comfortably resigned to the fact that the Gryffindor had him wrapped around his little finger, he allowed a little huff of irritation to escape his lips before plunging the fingers of his free hand into the thick black curls and absentmindedly stroking Harry's head and rejoining the murmur of contented chatter that had begun.

'So, why is Ron not with you tonight?' George asked Hermione, picking up the previous thread of conversation. 'Is he still being a tool?'

'To be honest, I don't know what he's doing,' Hermione responded sadly and Draco smiled as, next to her, Theo reached out to stroke her hand. 'I haven't seen him for the whole of the holidays. I asked him if he wanted me to come and see him and he said he'd let me know when would be a good time but he never got back to me, so now I don't know what's happening.'

'But you are still together?' Katie prompted gently only to receive a shrug in response.

'I guess, officially. He hasn't split up with me and I haven't dumped him.'

'For reasons passing understanding,' Draco muttered under his breath, to be rewarded with a sharp elbow in the ankle from Harry.

'I know what you're doing, 'Mione, and I admire your dedication, I really do...' Harry began, shifting uncomfortably for a moment.

'But there's only so much that you can do,' Millie interjected, smiling warmly at Harry. In the intervening minutes she had appeared to slide sideways so that she was now reclining comfortably against Neville.

'I know,' Hermione agreed with a quick squeeze to Theo's hand. 'He's on his last chance, I promise you that.'

With that, Harry rose from the carpet and headed to the liquor cabinet, officially declaring the depressing subject over with. The conversation shifted as the Fire-whiskey was consumed and they began to discuss the various merits and flaws of the different educators each had experienced through their time at Hogwarts. At some point, Neville and Millie disappeared, apparently unnoticed by anyone but Draco and returned twenty minutes later with huge smiles on their faces.

It was about one in the morning when George declared his need to be leaving and Harry staggered to his feet with the intention of seeing them out before stumbling and falling directly onto Draco's lap with a stupid expression on his face.

'Woops-a-daisy!' he declared, gigging helplessly whilst burrowing his face into Draco's shoulder.

'I think your host is a little too drunk to see you out,' Draco sighed. 'Hermione, would you mind? I think I need to get this one to bed.'

This declaration was met with another peal of giggles from around the room, which was only made worse when Harry whispered loudly enough for everyone else to hear: 'You don't have to pretend I'm drunk to get me to bed, gorgeous,' with a somewhat lascivious leer on his face.

'Uh huh, I don't think you're up to anything of the sort right now,' Draco insisted with a raised eyebrow as he pulled out his wand to cast a Lightening Charm on Harry.

'I think you're right, Draco,' Hermione said with a chuckle. 'It's okay, I can show everyone where they are sleeping.'

'Right,' Draco nodded, struggling to his feet and pausing whilst he waited for the room to stop spinning. Hoisting Harry into a more secure position in his arms, he called a goodnight to their friends and headed for the stairs.

'Ooh, my knight in shining armour,' Harry cooed, throwing his head backwards and forcing Draco to move quickly to stop him from smacking his head on the balustrade.

'I'll shining armour you in a minute,' Draco threatened in effectually. Harry weighed barely anything but it was still difficult for Draco to lift his feet up; they appeared to be made of lead. 'Fuckin' lightweight,' he added, deciding that abusing Harry at this moment was the only thing that might make him feel better.

It didn't work and by the time they reached the bedroom he felt exhausted from having to climb just one flight of stairs and dumped Harry unceremoniously on the bed before crashing down to sprawl across the mattress.

Harry bounced back up again, caught in his second wind and strode into the bathroom to begin getting ready for bed. 'You didn't need to carry me, you know,' he said, as his head popped back out of the bathroom, toothbrush shoved in his mouth.

'You're right, of course,' Draco called grumpily over the sound of water rushing from the faucet. 'I could have just let you fall down the stairs and crack your head open.'

'Aw, poor Draco,' Harry cooed, remerging from the bathroom. 'Is someone grumpy?' he asked and as Draco raised his head to make sure his obscene hand gesture was pointing in the correct direction he noticed that that a dangerous gleam was flashing in Harry's eyes only moments before he pounced.

The taste of peppermint and Fire-whiskey mingled on his tongue as Harry stroked along his bottom lip with a rough thumb before soothing it with his tongue. His hands seemed to move of their own accord as they tangled themselves in Harry's hair.

Harry's kisses were slightly sloppier than normal, betraying the fact that he was clearly still rather drunk but they lacked none of the usual passion. If possible they seemed even more eager than normal and were tinged with desperation.

'Want you,' Harry muttered into his mouth as fingers began to fumble ineffectually with the buttons on Draco's shirt. Everything was moving fast; too fast for Draco to really appreciate what was happening. He wanted everything to slow down for a moment to allow him to get his bearings but he wasn't willing to sacrifices Harry's toothpaste-cooled tongue for even a second so that he could make the request.

With a moment of startling clarity he realised that if he didn't do something about his shirt soon, Harry's impeded dexterity would get the better of him and one of his favourite shirts would become another victim of the fabled Gryffindor impatience.

Knowing somehow that any attempt to undo the buttons would quickly best him as well, Draco surged upwards into a half sitting position with the intention of pulling the restrictive garment off over his head. Harry, unfortunately, wasn't ready for the sudden movement and in his valiant attempt to avoid clashing heads he rolled backwards and disappeared over the edge of the bed with a thump.

'Ouch!' Harry declared with a chuckle. It took a tremendous effort from Draco but eventually he was able to drag himself to the edge of the bed and peer over. Harry lay spread eagled on his back rubbing vigorously at the back of his head.

Draco wasn't sure when he came to the decision that the thing to do in this situation would be to dive off of the bed after Harry, but the surprised 'Oof' that issued from the warm body beneath him confirmed that he, too, was apparently able to leap into a situation blindly despite his years of conditioning to the contrary.

Harry, being Harry, seemed unbothered by the sudden change of location and responded eagerly as Draco began to kiss a trail down the firm torso and began wrestling with the fly of Harry's jeans. He'd expected, in his inebriated state, for this to take at least a couple of tries but apparently his fingers were now working of their own accord and he'd managed within seconds to free Harry's now straining erection.

Harry bucked satisfyingly beneath him as he slid the hot flesh between his lips and revelled in the taste of spice and warm days by the sea that was distinctly Harry. Harry's hands were restrained as they wound themselves into his hair and Draco wondered how he was able to manage his customary gentleness whilst three sheets to the wind.

He didn't have chance to wonder for long, however, as the pressure of Harry's hands changed, tugging at his shoulders and pulling him back upwards again.

'Inside, now,' was all that Harry could manage as he began to pull ineffectually at Draco's jeans.

Eager to comply, Draco arched backwards with a flexibility he was certain he did not possess, and rummaged in the bedside drawer for the familiar vial. Slicking his fingers quickly, he rocked back on to his heels to allow him to push Harry's legs further apart and reveal his entrance. With as much self-control as he could muster he worked a finger inside and paused when Harry hissed at the intrusion.

A sudden sense of urgency rose up within Draco and he had to fight not to rush. His patience was rewarded when at last Harry began to relax and he was able to continue with a second finger.

'Enough,' Harry breathed and Draco watched as he gripped hold of his legs behind the knees and pulled them to his chest, giving Draco more access. For a moment Draco's breath caught in his chest as he regarded the beautiful, powerful wizard laid out beneath him. This was Harry Potter, a man who could have pretty much anyone he chose and yet he had chosen Draco, loved Draco and was now begging Draco to fuck him. If he allowed it, he could easily become overwhelmed in his current state.

Luckily, at this point, Draco's Slytherin side, the part of him that tended to overanalyse every little thing, was pushed aside and something else, more impulsive, more primal took control. Placing a hand on Harry's belly to steady himself, he slicked his cock and began to slide inside.

This was the bit that Draco loved the most. Harry was such a hot-blooded person, always warm to the touch, like a small furnace was burning inside him. As Draco entered him he paused for a moment, as he always did, to fully appreciate the intense heat which now surrounded him.

'Draco,' Harry groaned from beneath him, drawing out his name into two long syllables and rocking his hips needily, encouraging him to move. Draco had no desire to deny Harry any longer and began to move, sliding in and out of the delicious tight heat, angling so that he would hit that sweet spot deep inside with each downward stroke.

As the heat began to pool in Draco's spine, all he could hear were the panting moans of Harry beneath him and the filthy slapping sound of skin on skin. Knowing he wouldn't last much longer he groped for Harry's cock, pumping his fist in time with his thrusts.

Harry was right on the edge; he could tell by the way his head tossed from side to side and his hands fisted uselessly against the carpet beneath him. All of a sudden he was arching off of the floor, his release scalding hot against Draco's skin and as he rode out the waves of his own orgasm he began to tighten convulsively around Draco, forcing his own orgasm from him.

Sweaty, tired, sated and still a little dizzy from all the drink, Draco collapsed down on top of Harry and was quickly encircled by strong arms which held him close to the rapid heartbeat beneath him.

They lay there in silence for a moment, chests heaving in unison and Draco knew that very soon he would have to find the energy to extract himself and crawl into bed.

'You know what we forgot?' Harry asked. The voice was quiet, thick and scratchy with oncoming sleepiness and very close to Draco's ear.

Draco was only able to manage an inquisitive grunt in response.

'The Silencing Charm is only on the bed,' Harry chuckled.

XxX

It felt like a brass band was tuning up inside Draco's head when he awoke the next morning and as he cracked his eyelids to allow the first rays of morning sunlight in, it felt like they all dropped their instruments simultaneously.

He'd never been a heavy drinker. There had been the few times back when he and Harry were just starting out where he had drunk a little more than usual so as to have an excuse to stay over at Grimmauld Place, and the time of Harry's birthday, but he could count the number of times he'd been actually drunk on one hand and he had never had a hangover like this before.

He'd attended his fair share of glitzy parties, of course, where the champagne had flowed freely but the Malfoy way of doing things was always to nurse one glass for the entire night. His father's voice joined the band in his head, reciting his pearls of paranoid wisdom. _Never abandon the upper hand to drunkenness. If you drink, drink alone; that is the only person you can trust_.

Wanting someone else to blame for his current sorry state, or at least get some sympathy, he rolled over to prod Harry. Harry, however, was not there. The lack of the warm body next to him was enough to force him more awake as he listened carefully for the sound of Harry in the bathroom. He already knew this endeavour was hopeless, however, as the sheets next to him retained none of their warmth declaring that Harry had abandoned their bed long enough ago not to be coming back.

Feeling thoroughly sorry for himself, Draco began to force himself upright and shook his head in the hope of clearing the cobwebs. All this achieved, however, was that the band dropped their instruments again and this time they ricocheted off of the insides of his skull a few times before coming to rest.

Groping for his wand in the hope of discovering the time, his fingers brushed against something cool and damp and surrounded by the familiar prickle of Harry's magic. Squinting against the bright light he forced himself to focus on the blurry shape on the bedside table. The glass of water sitting under a Cooling Charm was suddenly the most beautiful thing in the world as he became aware of the fact that apparently, rather than sleeping last night he had been cleaning the carpets with his tongue.

As the cool liquid slid across his parched, furry tongue he felt his love for Harry increase just a little more. The band began to play slightly more quietly and the sunlight ceased to burn his retinas; he realised that Harry had probably added a couple of drops of 'Mr Mullered's Morning After Tincture' to the water. There was nothing that would completely wipe out all the side effects of excessive alcohol consumption but this was enough to allow him to struggle out of bed and become aware of the smell of fresh coffee drifting up through the floor boards.

As Draco entered the kitchen he realised that he was not the only one who was suffering this morning. Hermione, Theo, Millie and Neville all sat at the kitchen table, looking thoroughly dishevelled and peering into the depths of their coffee cups with bleary eyes. Only Harry looked fully awake as he strode across the kitchen and wrapped Draco in a hug that brought with it a freshness that stole a few more instruments from the band.

'Sorry I left you,' he muttered, pressing a steaming mug of coffee into Draco's hands as he stepped away. 'But I really didn't want to wake you,' he added, brushing a kiss over Draco's lips. Draco was touched by his commitment as he was certain that right now he probably tasted like a troll's g-string.

'Why are you so chipper?' Draco asked, suddenly realising how unfair it was that everyone else was suffering and Harry was breezing about the place like he didn't have a care in the world. 'You drank as much as the rest of us last night,' he accused, leaning back against Harry for support, still not trusting his legs to hold him steady for any length of time. 'In fact, you were the one that had to be carried to bed.'

'I promise I felt as crap as you did when I woke at about five this morning,' he reassured, placing a cool kiss against Draco's forehead. 'But that was five hours ago. I lounged on the sofa for a while, feeling sorry for myself then had some 'Mullered's' and went for a run and had a shower, now I feel fine.'

'If the only cure is to go for a run I think I'm just going to live with headache,' Draco asserted grumpily and was rewarded by groans of assent from his fellow sufferers.

'I think I might be able to arrange something that is a little more to your taste,' Harry chuckled, squeezing Draco gently.

'Hermione?' he called, and the girl looked up. Her eyes bore the dull sheen of someone who was finding it difficult to focus on their surroundings and her hair was as frizzy as Draco had ever seen it.

'Mmm?' she asked, clearly not yet ready to deal with the sound of her own voice inside her head.

'Do you have any idea where the nearest greasy spoon is?' Harry asked and something like approval flashed over Hermione's tired features.

'I imagine if we pull the cooker out we'd find one down the back, but what good will that do?' Draco asked, confused. He was sure he was missing something.

'No, Draco, it's a type of Muggle restaurant, and I think there's one just a couple of streets over,' Hermione explained with a small smile and a voice that sounded like sandpaper.

'Awesome,' Harry enthused. 'Let's go and get some breakfast!'

'I don't know,' Theo grumbled, his voice taking on a surprisingly deep timbre that reminded Draco slightly of a grumpy giant. 'Just the name greasy spoon makes me feel queasy, I don't think I could actually eat anything they might serve.'

'It's just a name,' Harry reassured, 'trust me, this is what you need.'

XxX

The grey drizzle that surrounded them as they walked the two streets to the restaurant seemed to reflect Draco's mood perfectly and he was left thinking that wherever Harry was taking them would have to be spectacular in order to make it worth the discomfort and lank hair that the weather was causing.

The smell of bacon was thick in the air as Harry held open the door to the slightly rundown looking cafe. Draco was disappointed. He had no idea what Harry was thinking but there was no way that he would risk eating somewhere like this even when he wasn't in such a sensitive condition. Harry apparently could read him a little better than he thought, however. As Draco went to enter into the establishment, something of his scepticism must have shown upon his face as Harry leaned in and caught his elbow.

'Just trust me on this, okay?' he asked hopefully. Draco sighed, beaten.

Harry directed the group to a largish table next to the steamed up plate glass window before disappearing towards a counter at the back of the room where a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair and far too much make-up leaned against the against the battered white counter in a bored manner.

The cafe was quiet and almost empty, with the only other occupants being a pair of large men with grubby faces, torn jeans and offensively bright yellow waistcoats which hurt his sensitive eyes.

As he sat down, the moulded plastic chair caused him to rock backwards away from the table and it was only when he attempted to pull his seat closer to the table that he realised that the entire set was firmly screwed into the floor. The table itself was covered in a yellow and white check plastic table cloth with a flimsy tin ashtray sitting in pride of place next to the cruet.

Harry reappeared moments later carrying a tray laden with six plain white mugs and placed one in front of each of them before sliding into the seat next to Draco.

'What is that?' Draco asked, employing the delicate nose wrinkle which he knew would adequately display his scepticism at the entire situation.

'It's tea,' Harry declared as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'It's orange!' Draco exclaimed with alarm. He was pleased to see that Theo was also peering into the cup dubiously whilst Harry and Hermione had simply wrapped their cold fingers around the hot ceramic and were sipping at the brew as if it were the most exquisite thing they had ever tasted.

'Just drink it,' Harry insisted and with a little huff, Draco reached for the sugar bowl.

Across the room, one of the grubby looking men reached into a pocket and pulled out a tatty packet of cigarettes. Finally something in this strange place was recognisable and with a sigh of relief he reached inside his coat and extracted his own, lighting one with a flourish and pulling the little ashtray towards him.

Finally with all the courage he could manage, he took a sip of his tea and was surprised to find that whilst he would probably find it disgusting at any other time, right now it seemed to be exactly what he needed.

On seeing Draco light up, Millie shot a hand across the table to grab up Draco's discarded packet and slide one out for herself, however, once the cigarette was between her lips she simply looked blankly at the lighter for a moment until Harry reached over and flipped it open and produced a flame, holding it out for her.

'Purebloods,' he muttered cheekily, inciting affronted yells from Draco, Theo, Millie and Neville.

'You shouldn't smoke,' Draco said suddenly, drawing a variety of surprised looks and raised eyebrows from his companions.

'Said the pot to the kettle,' Millie retorted, taking a draw on her cigarette defiantly.

'It's different,' Draco argued, though he wondered why on earth he was bothering; everyone knew you should never argue with a drunk, a fool, a Gryffindor or Millicent Bulstrode. 'I'm not an athlete,' he asserted, thinking of Millie's position as Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

'I'm not an athlete!' she chuckled, laughter coming from her mouth in white curls. 'I whack balls as hard as I can. Would you like me to demonstrate?'

'You know, I think I preferred you when you were too shy to say anything,' Draco teased, as everyone else cheered Millie's sassy response.

Before Millie could offer yet another clever comment, however, the bored looking waitress loomed large at the edge of the table carrying three enormous plates.

'S'it a full English apiece, love?' she asked Harry in a thick London accent. When Harry nodded in confirmation, she leaned across Draco, bringing with her the smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. Up close, Draco noticed that her skin was the same orange colour of the tea, leaving him wondering whether she might bathe in the stuff.

It took a second trip for the waitress to present them all with the massive platters of food but at last Draco was able to inspect what it was Harry was so sure would cure him of his hangover. Two sausages, two rashers of bacon, triangular potato things, fried egg, scrambled egg, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, fried bread, toast and some little black circles of something which Draco suspected was some kind of meat but could not identify.

'What's this?' he asked, prodding at the mystery meat with his fork.

'Black Pudding,' Hermoine chipped in from his other side while tidily buttering a piece of toast.

'What's that?' he asked dubiously, cutting off a tiny slither and holding it up to his nose. He saw Harry share a nervous look with Hermione before answering.

'It's a pork product, just try it. You can always leave it if you don't like it.' Harry said with a slightly exasperated tone in his voice.

'Or I'll take it from you,' Neville said enthusiastically as Draco tentatively held it to the tip of his tongue. Unable to detect anything too offensive on this first taste he began to chew it carefully and quickly screwed his face up, disgusted by not only its flavour but the slightly rubbery texture.

'You can have it, Neville, why would anyone choose to eat that?'

Neville shrugged and eagerly reached across to extract the offending black stuff from Draco's plate.

'I rather like it,' he said and then, scanning his plate: 'you can have my mushrooms in trade if you like?'

Draco wrinkled up his nose again; he liked mushrooms but it didn't seem like a fair trade, suspect meat for vegetables.

'What about a sausage?' he asked hopefully.

'On your bike,' Harry interrupted, 'that's not a fair trade at all. I'll take your mushrooms, though, if you like, Nev, and you,' he said, turning to Draco, 'can have my fried egg if you want it?'

Again Draco was underwhelmed; he liked fried eggs, he really did,, but they were too greasy to eat more than one of them.

'I'll happily take the fried egg,' Millie chipped in, 'and you can have my fried bread if you like?'

Draco was seriously considering this when Hermione piped up,

'Or I'll have the fried bread. I love that stuff and you can have my scrambled egg.'

Before Draco could assert that he would rather have the bread than the egg it was on Hermione's plate. He was just about to launch into a full on pout when Theo, clearly feeling left, out decided he wanted in on the game.

'Alternatively, I'll take 'Mione's scrambled egg and you can have my hash browns.'

'Done!' Draco said, eagerly holding out his plate for the golden triangles.

'Excellent,' Harry agreed with a hint of exasperation in his voice. 'Now can we please just eat it?'

Silence fell over the table as everyone began to hungrily consume their breakfasts and Draco noticed by the time he was half way through that the colour had returned to his friends' faces and everyone was looking a little more perky. Millie was the first to finish and she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh and cradling her tea cup in her hands.

'So, Harry,' she began and Draco just caught the smallest hint of a devilish smile that told him something dangerous was coming. 'Are you always that loud during sex or only when you're drunk?'

Harry choked on the bite of toast he'd just taken and he wasn't the only one. Theo had turned beetroot red at the new topic of conversation. Draco had to stop himself from smiling as he thumped Harry firmly on the back. Theo had always been a bit of a prude.

'He's always that loud,' Draco confirmed with a studied air of nonchalance once Harry had stopped spluttering. 'It was just that last night we were on the floor and so outside the Silencing Charm.'

At that, Millie and Hermione burst into giggles whilst Harry groaned and hid his face in his flimsy napkin. With a satisfied sigh Draco leaned back in his bucket chair and lit another cigarette; when Theo was the next to speak up, though, it was Draco's turn to be surprised.

'Doesn't it hurt?' he asked so quietly that Draco only just heard him over the metal contraption that was hissing steam in to the air at the back of the cafe. So surprised was he at Theo's question that for once a calm retort failed to come to him and Hermione, ever eager to provide and answer quickly, spoke up.

'Well, it can, same as anything, the key is in the preparation,' she responded seriously.

'Hermione!' Harry exclaimed, his voice hitting a pitch Draco had not heard before.

'I'm interested to know where you are getting your information, Granger, is this experience talking?' Draco asked, delighted to see Hermione looking bashful.

'Well, when Harry told me he was gay I thought I ought to do...'

'A little research?' Harry asked, his tone incredulous.

'Well, yes. I wanted to be able to help if you ever needed to talk to me about anything,' she explained, gaining a little more of her composure.

'Well, I think I've been thoroughly embarrassed for the morning, shall we get going?' Harry asked, pushing away his plate and looking at Hermione with an interesting cross of annoyance and amusement.

XXX

'As much as it was nice to have them over, it's good to have the house to ourselves again,' Draco called from his position at the kitchen table. 'And I'm sure you appreciate not turning bright red every few minutes,' he chuckled as Harry re-entered the room.

Immediately the smile dropped from his mouth as he caught sight of Harry's face. He looked pale and worried.

'That was Andie in the fire,' he explained. The words sounded slightly strangled, as though he was having to force them out.

Draco's thoughts flew immediately to Teddy. Was the little boy sick? Had something happened? Draco was at Harry's side in seconds, hand resting gently, reassuringly on Harry's elbow.

'Teddy?' he asked and was surprised when Harry slowly shook his head.

Harry turned to Draco and fixed him with one of the most intense looks that Draco had ever seen.

'Draco, it's your mum.' Immediately it felt to Draco as though he'd been doused in icy water. A rushing noise filled his ears so that he barely heard what Harry said next, and for the life of him he wished that if he hadn't heard them then they wouldn't be true.

'She died, Draco.'


	20. Chapter 19 At Peace

Discaimer: I don't own and if I did I think squatters rights would have kicked in by now

A/N; I almost forgot to do this and I think all things considered you guys really deserve an authors note to explain just why this has taken so bloody long. Sadly I really don't have an explanation, not a good one anyway. It's been over a year and whilst in that time I have moved over 200 miles away from my starting place, gotten myself engaged and managed to find myself a job that takes up a good 50 hours of my week when you include travelling time, that really isn't the reason. The reason is I got stuck.

When I started writing this story it was an outlet a way of coping with the nasty little drama's a couple of so called friends were causing, but I'm just not in that place anymore. Also, reading all Tasha's fic has reprogrammed my brain and now it really struggles with past tense. I hate it. I really do. Still, I will finish this story I will not give up I promise.

With that I will say my thanks. Thank you to envy_venis and sessahhh both of who went through and reviewed at exactly the right time to draw my attention back to the fact that people were still reading this story even though I'd been avoiding it. Thank you to the beautiful saras_girl for endless encouragement and comma provision.

This chapter is for an old friend who also lost his mum over a prolonged period. Ben, we may not speak any more but for a few years you made my life better.

Chapter 19

**At Peace**

_What would you think of me now,__  
__so lucky, so strong, so proud?__  
__I never said thank you for that,__  
__now I'll never have a chance.__  
__May angels lead you in.__  
__Hear you me my friends.__  
__On sleepless roads the sleepless go.__  
__May angels lead you in._

_Jimmy Eat World – Hear you me_

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked for at least the twentieth time in as many hours, doing the best he could to keep the desperation from his voice.

Draco merely shook his head, flashed him a brief, grateful glance and then curled on his side. He had barely spoken since hearing of his mother's death two days ago, and hadn't, as far as Harry was able to tell, slept at all, even since returning to Hogwarts.

_Please just close your eyes_, he begged silently, staring at Draco's back, his stiff posture, listening to his agitated breaths and wishing more than anything to be allowed to help.

He knew that nothing would help, though. There was nothing in the world that would give Draco those extra few hours, few minutes, few seconds with his mother that were his only wish.

He remembered the feeling well. The thing was, he'd actually achieved the impossible; he'd gotten his few moments. Immediately he thought of running into the forest, searching though the undergrowth in the hope of offering Draco the same piece of mind he'd been afforded.

Not that it would achieve anything. As Dumbledore had told him many a time, no spell could bring back the dead, not really. Besides, the stone would be long gone by now. The rain would have shifted the earth; the forest creatures would have kicked it up and trampled it down. He could hunt for the rest of his life and he would still never find it.

The last thing that Draco needed was for him to sacrifice his time and energy on a fruitless search that would achieve nothing in the long run. Draco needed him to lie there next to him, offering silent support as his mind worked through the grief that had flooded it.

Just because Harry would feel better doing something active didn't mean that it would help Draco. Besides, he'd been doing something active; he'd been working with Andie to make arrangements for Narcissa's funeral. Draco had opted out of that right away, leaping at the chance when Harry had offered his help.

Harry still felt like Draco should be leaning on him more. His acceptance of Harry and Andie's help and their almost not-fight in Grimmauld Place's roof garden the previous night were the only times Draco had said more than five words together since receiving the horrible news.

He'd almost panicked when he'd gotten home from Andromeda's and the house was dark and silent; actually, there was no almost about it. He had panicked. He had flown through the house, opening and shutting each successive door with increasing urgency when the room beyond had failed to reveal Draco. Eventually he had reached the upper landing and had caught the faintest scent of cigarette smoke on the air and he felt himself unclench as he ran up the stairs and emerged into the bright late April evening.

Draco had been sitting backwards on a chair, cigarette butts littering the ground by his feet as he stared unseeingly at the last sliver of bright orange sun slipping below the London skyline. Suddenly Harry had felt awkward, not knowing what to say, not wanting to startle him when he appeared so deep in thought.

'_I know you're there__, you know.' Draco's tone was positively icy and Harry couldn't help but flinch slightly. Not that Draco noticed; he hadn't moved his eyes from the middle distance. 'The way you thundered up those stairs I imagine the whole street knows you're home, silencing charms be damned.' _

_Harry stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to do. He could see Draco's agitation and pain in every line of his body__, in every flick of his cigarette, and he wanted desperately to just march across the roof garden and pull him tight to his chest, to hold him until all the sadness and anger and disappointment had gone, but Draco's 'fuck off' vibes were scarily intense and he couldn't be entirely sure that he wouldn't hex him for it._

_Instead__, Harry compromised, edging forward to place a tentative hand on Draco's shoulder. Immediately, he seemed to deflate slightly and he turned too-bright eyes to Harry._

'_I'm sorry, that was unnecessary,' he offered and Harry saw the apology in his face._

'_It's fine.' T__he words rolled automatically off his tongue as he shifted to stroke a hand through Draco's hair._

_Draco pulled away, and __the look he shot him was more angry than sad._

'_It's not fine,' he countered.__ 'You aren't just allowed to be okay with it if I talk to you like shit. My mother put up with that for years and look what happened to her.'_

_Harry thought at that moment __that they were close to a breakthrough, that at any second the floodgates would burst and all the hurt would come pouring out, but it didn't. Draco remained composed and Harry realised that he was going to have to respond._

'_I'm not okay with it__,' he explained, choosing his words carefully, constructing his thoughts for once. 'But I do understand it. I understand that you are angry and that you want to yell and scream at the fucking unfairness of it all and that you aren't actually pissed off with me.'_

'_I'm being argumentative__, aren't I?' Draco asked, and Harry offered him a small smile._

'_Hey, you're doing better than I did. I completely destroyed Dumbledore's office after Sirius died__.'_

_Draco nodded with appreciation and went back to looking out over__ the city. They sat there in silence as the sky faded slowly from orange to pink to purple to blue. Harry had rested his hand on the small of Draco's back, relieved when Draco had leaned into it, delighted to be finally offering a little comfort._

Twenty-four hours later and he still hadn't been able to offer anything more than that and now, as he lay in their four-poster, staring up at the worn canopy, he knew that Draco had another sleepless night ahead of him and he wanted more than anything to stay awake with him, to be ready in case he should need anything, in case he suddenly had the desire to talk.

Unfortunately, Harry knew that this was never going to happen. He'd rarely had a huge amount of trouble falling asleep; all he'd ever needed is to feel warm, comfortable and safe and he'd drop off, and that's what started to happen. His eyelids drooped and he fought desperately to keep them open, to stay ready and alert at Draco's side for as long as he could, but the pull of sleep was too strong; he was going to lose, and, slowly, he was dragged under.

XXXX

_He's been here before, sitting on an opulent purple and gilt chair that has been set up impossibly high in the air. The evening has been infused with a mysterious golden light and __the whole scene is familiar and foreign all at once. Ron and Hermione are at either side of him, both of them smiling and laughing, and something heavy hangs around his neck; he looks down and sees a pair of gaudy Omnioculars, and slowly it filters back. He's at the Quidditch World Cup, though as he looks down at hands that are scarred and worn he realises that this is him now and not his fourteen-year-old self._

_Even as he realises this, __he remembers that just behind him and to his left is a house-elf, babysitting a man covered in an invisibility cloak, a man who will, in less than a year, have brought about Riddle's rebirth. That's not who he's here for, though; the man he's here for is coming up the stairs now; he's about to walk straight into the top box with the Minister in tow and Harry stands, slipping his wand from his pocket as Hermione and the Weasleys look at him, confusion on their faces as they ask him what he's doing._

'_Ending it__,' he hears himself say as he raises his wand, pointing it straight at Lucius Malfoy and remembering something that Bellatrix Lestrange won't tell him for almost two more years; he has to mean it. And he does, he really does; all the anger that he has felt on Draco's behalf coils in his stomach and he focuses it all at Lucius, who just stares at him with a sneer on his face. When the words come, they aren't shouted with heat and passion, they are whispered with a cold fury, and the green light flashes across the box to strike this monster in the chest. The screaming starts before Lucius has even crumpled to the floor, but Harry ignores them all. He looks to Draco, and Draco is calm as he simply stares back._

XXXXX

As Harry had suspected, Draco didn't sleep at all and when he rose the next morning Draco was already in the bathroom. Seeing it as his best opportunity, he slipped quietly from their room and crossed the common room to knock on Hermione's bedroom door. She answered quickly, apparently unfazed by the early hour and, with one look at Harry and a perception that he'd always envied, she silently stood back to let him in.

'Did you and Draco have a fight?' she asked, and Harry shook his head, needing to stop her from trying to guess; he wanted to do this quickly and be back in his room before Draco could finish in the shower.

'No, nothing like that,' Harry whispered, his voice coming out hoarse as if it were he that hadn't slept for the last forty-eight hours. 'Draco's mum died,' he told her and Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

'Is he okay?' she asked and Harry shrugged, really not knowing how to answer that. He settled for honesty.

'I have no idea,' he confided. 'He's sort of withdrawn, it's really frustrating.'

Hermione failed to suppress the small sound of disbelief and Harry shot her a look which he hoped clearly conveyed the message that this was no time to talk about his hypocrisy. Instead, he pressed on, knowing that he was running short on time.

'I was just hoping you could go and tell the others, I don't want him to have to tell the same story five times, I'm not sure he's ready for that.'

Hermione just smiled and nodded, opening the door to allow Harry to slip back into the common room.

'No problem, Harry,' she offered, the sadness in her voice almost tangible. I'll see you both at breakfast.'

XXXXX

They had all congregated in the Entrance Hall when Harry finally managed to convince Draco that he still needed to eat. They didn't make a fuss; there were no over-emotional outpourings of sympathy, but they were there. Theo was the first to step up; he pulled Draco into a huge hug that Harry was certain neither one of them would have attempted at any other time. Then came Millie, then Neville, each stepping up, hugging Draco tightly, and stepping back. Hermione was the last and probably the fiercest and Harry watched as Draco clung to her slightly, burying his face in her hair.

Even when she pulled back from the hug she didn't release him entirely and instead looped her arm around his and tugged him gently towards the Great Hall and breakfast. Harry hung back a moment as he watched their friends offer their silent support and for a moment his throat ached, his gratitude bringing him to the verge of tears. Theo glanced back as he became aware that Harry was no longer with them. With an exaggerated sigh and a melodramatic eye-roll, he made his way back to where Harry was still rooted to the spot and, folding his arm into the crook of Harry's elbow in a strange parody of Hermione, he tugged Harry not-so-gently into the Great Hall.

XXXXX

_Tap, tap, tap._

Harry ignored the incessant noise for a moment as he attempted to shove books into the bag that he was holding in his teeth with his right hand without spilling the cup of coffee in his left.

_Tap, tap, tap._

'Are you going to get that?' Draco asked as he stepped out of the bathroom and Harry's heart sank a little. Harry wasn't sure who this unaffected man in front of him was but it wasn't his Draco. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm as he asked the question; it was just that, a question. At seeing Harry attempt a feat that would probably score him a job in the circus, he simply crossed the room to take Harry's cup from his hand and help him. There wasn't a sigh, there was no aloof comment about what on earth he might be trying to achieve; there wasn't even a sardonic eye-roll.

It made Harry wonder, just for a moment, exactly how outlandishly stupid he would have to be before he could break through this torpor. He was just on the verge of trying to suck his cup to his face whilst trying to finish his Transfiguration notes when the tapping came again.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Reluctantly, he dropped his bag to the sofa and went to let in Archimedes. The note was written on Andromeda's distinctive lavender parchment and Harry almost sighed with relief; this would be the final information about the funeral and he hoped beyond everything that it might mark the beginning of the end of the empty, unresponsive Draco that he had no idea how to deal with. He could cope if he were crying, if he were angry, but whilst he sat in this malaise, there was nothing for Harry to respond _to._

'She's arranged the funeral for Thursday morning at the Manor,' Harry revealed to Draco as he unfurled and read the note. 'She says we can go back and have lunch with her if we like.' As he looked up, he noticed Draco's posture tighten a little more.

'Yeah, that's great,' Draco agreed with what sounded to Harry like a complete lack of interest, before he headed from the room.

If Harry had thought that news of the funeral would help Draco to relax a little, he'd been sorely mistaken. As they moved through their classes, Draco seemed more distracted and withdrawn than ever.

Early afternoon saw them both in the Potions lab, surrounded by the sweet-smelling steam emitting from a dozen cauldrons. Harry struggled to force his brain to concentrate as the heat clouded his thoughts.

The Liquid Skin potion was horribly fiddly, requiring very exact amounts of ingredients. Harry's potion-making skills had improved exponentially since Foley had begun her tenure, but potions like this, which required more precision than flair, were still the bane of his existence. Draco usually managed potions like this easily but today, when Harry looked across, he couldn't help but notice that his own potion was closer to the racing-car green shade that they were aiming for. A quick glance at Draco's face confirmed his suspicions. Draco was staring off into the middle distance with a dazed expression on his face.

Harry ran a finger gently down his arm, hoping to bring him back to the present. It worked and Draco started out of his daydream, snapping his eyes to Harry's and offering him a half smile whilst reaching for an ingredient to add to his neglected potion.

When Harry looked back across at him a few moments later, he would swear that time itself must have slowed down around them for him to have managed to both realise the problem and prevent the inevitable disaster. He must have glanced only briefly at Draco's potion, which was much darker than it should have been. It was the almost black green of a holly leaf and Harry was impressed at himself for knowing that this was because Draco had added too many salamander scales.

There was a small flash of orange out of the corner of his eye and it took less than a second to register before Harry's hand was shooting out to wrap around Draco's wrist and still its movement, only just preventing the small cluster of scales from falling into the potion.

The scowl that had appeared on Draco's face at Harry's interference quickly dissolved into an expression of horror as he looked from his potion to his outstretched hand and the full repercussions of his distraction hit him. Salamander scales were a controlled substance, not sold to underage wizards for one simple reason; in high concentrations they could cause an explosion powerful enough to destroy an area the size of Quidditch pitch.

Draco's face blanched and Harry thought for a moment that he would faint. Instead, he simply tipped the scales back into their warded container, extinguished the flames beneath his cauldron and calmly turned and stalked from the dungeon.

It took everything that Harry had not to just run straight after Draco when he left the room, but for once his brain overrode his shoddy impulse control and he decided that the better course of action was to give him a few minutes to calm and centre himself as well as run a little damage control with Foley.

XXXXX

Harry let his feet carry him down the gently sloping lawns towards the lake, towards the tiny little dot on the map that was labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. The sky overhead was ominously dark, throwing the world into a kind of twilight that made the grass appear almost impossibly green.

His stomach twisted as Draco's figure finally came into view, slumped on the grass, elbows resting on raised knees. Harry took a deep breath as he closed the final short distance, and, thinking that this would all be a lot easier if he knew of something he could say that would actually help, he plonked himself unceremoniously next to Draco on the grass.

Draco offered him a small half-smile in greeting but didn't turn his head and didn't say anything. He just kept his eyes trained on the smooth, grey surface of the lake. He didn't, however, ask Harry to leave, so, in the absence of a better idea, Harry arranged himself into a comfortable position and waited.

And waited.

Every now and then a bird would swoop down and scoop an unsuspecting insect from the surface of the water and this would result in the Giant Squid raising up a tentacle to take a lazy swipe at an even more unsuspecting bird, but excluding that, nothing broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Nothing, that is, until the first distant roll of thunder. Harry looked sidelong at Draco, wondering if the imminent change in weather would call an end to this silent vigil, but Draco didn't move at all. Not when lightning streaked across the sky, not when the answering roll of the thunder sounded much more loudly than before, not when the first heavy drop of rain splattered down on his forehead and tracked its way down his face.

The rain picked up quickly, soaking both himself and Draco in seconds, plastering their hair to their heads and turning their shirts translucent. Finally, Draco shifted slightly on the grass next to him and Harry felt hope flutter in his chest.

Draco whispered something and Harry was forced to strain his ears to hear him above the sound of the rain. He couldn't make it out, though, and he was frustrated at himself when he was forced to ask Draco to repeat it.

'I don't want her buried there,' Draco repeated, louder and more assertively.

It took a few moments for Harry to process what had been said but when his brain finally caught up with it all, he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open slightly with surprise; that's what it had all been about. Draco's withdrawal, the way he'd spiralled inwards as the plans for the funeral came together; this was the root of it all. And it was something Harry could fix.

Draco was on his feet now, agitation screaming from every line of his body as he paced back and forth in front of Harry, small sprays of water kicking up from the sodden grass with every step.

'I know arrangements have already been made and all that but...' Draco began but Harry cut him off.

'That doesn't matter, whatever you want is what we'll do,' Harry insisted, reaching a hand toward Draco but quickly withdrawing it as he resumed his pacing. Harry watched, fascinated, as the agitation increased.

'Do you have any idea where...' Harry began, but Draco was so worked up now that he couldn't wait for Harry to finish his question and he cut across him.

'You're going to think this is foolish,' Draco said with a slight flush colouring his cheeks.

'No, I won't, I promise,' Harry reassured, as he became bolder and reached out to swipe dripping wet hair from Draco's face.

'Spinner's End,' Draco responded simply and Harry felt his eyes widen. He didn't intend to ask Draco why; he didn't need to the reason, but Draco apparently was eager to give it as he continued talking.

'I know it's strange and I know that propriety calls for her to be buried with the Malfoys but...' He paused and Harry watched him fight some internal struggle. 'I just can't stand the thought of sending her back there,' he went on, and suddenly Draco was yelling, all the tightly-coiled fretfulness spilling over into pure fury. 'I can't stand the idea that one day she might be buried next to the complete fucking _cunt_ that put her there in the first place,' he spat.

He just stood there for a moment, eyes burning as rage overwhelmed him, His hands curled into fists at his sides and the wind whipped his hair about his face, as if it, too, shared his anger. And then that anger was gone, and he was sinking to his knees in the muddy grass in front of Harry, his voice cracking slightly as sadness rushed into fill the space that the anger had left.

'That place, it was so beautiful,' he said, and as Harry watched, Draco's focus drifted and he could tell that he was back there in that leafy green cemetery at sunrise. 'It was where the war finally ended for me; it was where I found you, it was where I found peace and I want that for her. She deserves a little peace.'

The rain mingled with Draco's tears as they tracked down his face and Harry could not hold back any longer as he reached out and pulled Draco to his chest. Draco clung to him like a lifeline and he cried, his tears soaking through Harry's already sodden shirt. Harry made no endeavour to quiet him; he just held him close until the tears were done.

XXXXX

Draco was already in bed by the time Harry received the confirmation from Andie that she had managed to change the location of the funeral. Harry had been so relieved when, after a quick shower and a bite to eat, Draco had fallen straight into a deep, restful sleep. Not only because he knew that Draco needed the sleep but because he wasn't entirely sure Draco would appreciate what he planned to do this evening.

As silently as possible, he retrieved Draco's school bag from where it hung over the back of the desk chair and headed back into the common room with it, emptying the contents onto the table. He sighed deeply as he looked at the multiple rolls of parchment and sank down into the worn leather of the sofa. Why did Draco have to take so many goddamn subjects? With the realisation that he was in for a rather long night, he pulled '_Advanced Potion Making' _and Draco's Potions essay from the pile and set about correcting all the mistakes made by a thoroughly distracted mind.

Several hours later, with Potions and Charms done, Harry was just about to start Transfiguration when the door creaked open and he started, knocking a stack of Arithmancy notes to the floor as Hermione slipped quietly into the room. She immediately apologised for startling him and bent down to help him retrieve the fallen parchment. She stopped quickly, however, when she noticed what it was she was holding.

'But you don't study Arithmancy,' she said matter-of-factly and Harry fought to suppress an eye-roll.

'Yes, I know that,' he replied, tugging the papers from Hermione's hands and sorting them back into their correct places into the stack. 'I was just hoping to understand enough to check Draco's work,' he explained.

There was a moment of comprehension from Hermione and then she was holding out her hand, silently asking for the stack of papers to be returned to her as she simultaneously pulled a quill from her bag.

It was two in the morning when the final bottle of ink was stoppered and Draco's homework was packed neatly back into his bag. The fire burned low as Harry worked the kinks from his tired back and fingers.

'How's he doing? Hermione asked as she packed away her own notes and rubbed absently at a spot of ink on the back of her hand.

'Better,' Harry confirmed, for once strangely relieved at Hermione's habit of needing to know everything that was going on. He wanted to talk about this, also something of a new feeling for him. 'He was really worried about the funeral, but it's sorted now and he's definitely doing better. I was really worried there for a little bit though; he wouldn't even look at me.'

Hermione didn't say anything to this; she just offered him the sad sympathetic smile that always seemed to suggest he was a little bit slow on the uptake before shouldering her bag and heading for her room.

'When's the funeral?' she asked suddenly, stopping with one hand resting on the door handle.

'Day after tomorrow. Today? Tomorrow?' Harry offered, trying to figure out which day it was. 'Friday,' he added at last, dissolving the confusion. 'Eight am.'

'Okay, goodnight, Harry,' she replied, and before Harry had a chance to ask her anything else, to even thank her for her help, she was through the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

XXXXX

The first few students were beginning to filter down to breakfast when Harry and Draco made their way down the marble staircase on Friday morning but other than that it was all quite quiet. They walked in silence, side by side, an occasional brush of fingers offering support. The black dress robes made Harry feel uncoordinated and he carefully watched his feet as they descended the stairs. This was the reason he didn't see what Draco saw, the reason he wasn't aware that Draco had stopped in his tracks. When he did realise that he was walking alone, he stopped and looked back to where Draco was standing, four steps above him.

'Draco, what...?' he began, following Draco's startled gaze, and the words dissolved in his mouth as his eyes fell on four figures dressed in dark dress robes, waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

Hermione stepped forward, flicking aside a short, smart pinstripe cloak and extending her hand towards Draco. 'Come on, you two, we don't want to be late.'

The rain had abated somewhat during the night but there was still enough drizzle for Harry to take a moment to cast an umbrella charm large enough to cover all six of them as they made their way down the drive towards the main gates where they would be free to Apparate.

As they waited in the leafy cemetery for the official to arrive, Harry found himself wandering away from the others, confident that they would take care of Draco as he sought out the other familiar grave in the cemetery.

One year on, the plot looked almost unrecognisable, having lost all the harsh lines. The ivy that coiled up the trunk of the nearby pine tree had crawled through the undergrowth and begun to creep up the stone. Tall grasses covered the grave and amongst them the red poppies waved. The scene soothed his shredded nerves a little and, with a small smile, he turned back towards his friends.

When asked afterwards, Harry wouldn't be able to remember much about the funeral itself. He recalled the steady warmth of Draco's hand in his own, recalled the way that Millie leaned into Neville and Neville didn't hesitate before wrapping an arm around her waist. He remembered how strange it was to see Andromeda standing tall next to her sister's grave, her dark hair swept away from her face and calling attention to just how similar they looked. Oddly, the thing he remembered the most was Hermione and how she kept looking to her side as if trying to see something that wasn't there.

He remembered giving Draco a moment alone to say goodbye and stepping up to Hermione, pulling her into a tight one-armed hug, relieved when she leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder. Harry knew that there were things going on in her life at the moment that had been causing her distress; the whole situation with Ron had been pulling her in two separate directions and Harry couldn't help but feel that he'd abandoned her slightly with all his recent worries. He placed a kiss against the top of her head, inhaling the familiar flowery scent of her shampoo, and resolved that from there on out he would be more supportive.

They all ended up going back to Andie's for coffee and cake and listening intently as she told them stories of the mischief that she and Narcissa had indulged in as little children. Apparently, they had been quite the little troublemakers, lacing Bellatrix's hair-smoothing solution with stinksap and charming the portrait of their great grandfather Cygnus so that he spent two weeks wearing a frilly pink nightdress. By the time they left, they were all smiling.

As they walked back up the drive to Hogwarts, Harry and Draco allowed the others to pull ahead slightly.

'How're you holding up?' Harry asked when he was sure the others were far enough ahead for Draco to be able to answer honestly. Draco cast a sidelong glance in Harry's direction, scrutinising him slightly as though trying to decide whether to tell him something.

'Would you think I was evil if I said I felt relieved?' Draco asked and Harry offered him a sympathetic smile.

'Of course not, it makes sense. You said goodbye to your mother months ago,' Harry mused. 'And now she's happy.'

'Probably off having a very snarky high tea with Severus,' Draco added and they both giggled at the image.

'Where the hell have you been all morning? Have you been with them?' The loud angry voice broke through their peaceful moment. Harry's head snapped round, searching for the aggressor and spotted Ron stalking down the stone steps towards where Hermione stood with Neville, Millie and Theo.

In the second it took Harry to react to the sight of Ron storming towards them, Draco had dropped his hand and was streaking up the drive, leaving Harry to trail behind.

Not that Hermione was unable to look after herself. As Harry and Draco skidded to a halt on the gravel surface of the drive, she had crossed her arms and was staring at Ron with a look that would have made Riddle himself quail in fright.

'I was at a funeral, Ron, not that it's any of your business,' she spat angrily and Harry couldn't help but be impressed that Ron didn't flinch at all. Not that Ron was himself at that moment. His eyes were wild, his face as red as his hair and he looked totally unhinged.

'None of my business?' he almost shrieked and Harry winced at the noise.

Harry would never be able to figure out why Draco thought that drawing attention to himself at that moment was the smart thing to do. In the future he would tell him that it was the chivalrous thing to do, but Harry maintained that at that moment the chivalry was probably better left to Neville, or even Theo—anyone other than Draco.

'Listen, Weasley, just calm down a moment and let her explain,' Draco said evenly and Harry couldn't help but be impressed; he knew what it must have cost Draco at that moment to keep his tone civil and any insults behind his teeth.

Ron did not appreciate Draco's restraint, however, and quickly turned his anger on him.

'What the fuck has it got to do with you, Malfoy, you pansy little ferret.'

'You made it my business when you began hollering like a drunken Muggle at a football match.'

'Fuck you, Malfoy, just stay away from my girlfriend.'

'Whatever you say, Weasel, I was just showing her how a real man behaves. How does that feel, hmm? Being less of a man that a queer?'

Harry knew in that moment Draco that had gone too far and he was proven right as Ron stepped right up into Draco's personal space, fisting the expensive fabric of his robes in a threatening manner.

Harry didn't even have time to think of a spell, let alone draw his wand before his magic was surging through him and launching Ron a good ten feet across the grass before settling around Draco and their friends like a shield.

'That's enough, Ronald,' Hermione snapped. 'You don't get to talk like that to my friends and you don't get to talk like that to me. I've tried everything I can to help you through this but I've had enough. We're done.'

With that, she span on her heel and stalked up towards the castle without even waiting for a response.


	21. Chapter 20 Always a Reason

Disclaimer: so very not mine

A/N: I know, I know, nothing for a whole year and then two chapters in a week. There isn't much more to go now I'm afraid; just one more chapter and the epilogue. I'm setting myself a realistic target. I hope to have it finished by the end of July so here's hoping. Anyway on to dedication, this is a special one.

This chapter is for Richard without whom it wouldn't exist. Richard, you taught me so much, you taught me that anything I liked was stupid, that anything fun was without merit and that pretentiousness was next to godliness. So, to thank you I dedicated you a chapter of my fan fiction because I know what you think of fan fiction; after all, it's not proper writing. Then again, wait, just one question, how much many people have read the 'worthwhile' crap that you've written? That is all.

Chapter 20

Always a Reason

_You say you think we need to go to war__  
__Well, you're already in one__  
__'Cause it's people like you that need to get slew__  
__No one wants your opinion___

_Fuck you, fuck you very, very much__  
__'Cause we hate what you do__  
__And we hate your whole crew__  
__So please don't stay in touch_

_Fuck you – Lily Allen_

Somehow, and he had no idea how, Draco was finding the near silence of Harry and Hermione's common room distracting. He wanted his music but could, in his mind's eye, clearly see his CD player sitting on the bedside table at Grimmauld Place; exactly where he had left it.

Nothing but the sound of his quill broke through the heavy silence. Not the rustle of a page as Hermione leafed through some hefty textbook. Not the muttered curses from Harry as he spotted another spelling error. He'd been left on his own and he resented it.

He also resented the fact that Harry's homework was sitting, completed, on the edge of the table. Since when did Harry finish his homework before he did?

He glanced at the Transfiguration essay resting on top of the pile, the very essay that he'd been struggling to finish and he couldn't help wondering for just a moment how much Harry would mind if he were to just pull it towards him and mine it for ideas.

'He would probably offer if he were here,' Draco reasoned, saying the words aloud just to break the silence.

His fingers had just brushed against the heavy parchment when he drew them back as if burnt. Malfoys do not allow imprecise Gryffindors to do their homework for them: you know, unless it's Defence Against the Dark Arts.

With a sigh of resignation he smoothed his parchment and re-read his previous paragraph. He had just considered the possibility of filling a few inches by considering the ramifications of Gamp's Law when a knock on the door startled him slightly.

He eagerly leapt to his feet, grateful for the distraction. It would be Theo; Neville and Millie had taken to disappearing off in the evening, leaving Theo with nothing to do. He yanked open the door with a jibe about Theo's obsession with Hermione on his lips.

It was not Theo. Theo was not five foot two, did not have red hair and was not a girl. In fact, if he were to have listed all the people who he thought might have turned up at his door at half past nine on a Thursday, Ginevra Weasley wouldn't have been the last one on it because she wouldn't have been included at all. He hadn't seen her around since before the Easter break and he'd almost managed to forget that she existed. As she stood there staring at him, Draco considered for a moment simply slamming the door in her face. He wasn't sure what stopped him but something did.

'Where's Harry?' she asked, raising her chin slightly as though to prove to Draco that she wasn't intimidated by him.

'Elsewhere,' he answered simply, deciding in that moment winding up the She-Weasel could buy him at least ten minutes of procrastination and hell, he'd done it for less valid reasons in the past.

'Hermione?' she asked and Draco's resolve faltered for a moment as he heard the note of desperation in her voice. It was enough for him to offer her a proper answer.

'They're off doing head boy and girl things,' Draco offered, forgetting himself momentarily as he wiggled his fingers mysteriously.

Ginevra appeared to blanch slightly and that was impressive, because as Draco finally began to take in the girl's appearance he noticed how awful she looked. Her hair hung lankly about her face and her wide, frightened eyes were lined with shadows.

She turned to leave, but as she did the firelight glinted off the sleeve of her robe that was drawn down to cover her hand. If Draco had been anyone else he might not have noticed the heavy way the wet fabric moved and the way it shone slightly in a way that water didn't.

He moved fast, caught her upper arm and pulled her back towards him and was surprised slightly when she didn't resist, didn't struggle.

'What's this?' he asked, trying to catch her eye.

'Nothing,' she murmured, but despite the denial, she'd phrased it more like a question.

'Despite what you might think, Ginevra, I am not a moron,' Draco explained and he raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Hesitantly, he tugged the fabric free from where it was clutched in her fist, feeling its damp stickiness between his fingers and reminding himself to breathe calmly as a series of memories assaulted him.

What he should have revealed was the smooth skin of a pale, freckled forearm. Only it wasn't. He knew it wouldn't be but the reality of it still caused him to catch his breath. The cut was about three inches long and deep, with dark red blood oozing from it continuously. It ran from just above her wrist diagonally across the inside of her arm and Draco felt slightly queasy at the sight of it.

Stepping back he held open the door to allow her into the room and was relieved when she shuffled past him. Immediately, he closed the door and guided her to the sofa, using the hand that hadn't been smeared in blood to push his homework into an untidy pile. Quickly, he sat down next to her and held her arm gently as he focused on siphoning off the blood so that he could see the cut more clearly.

The next bit was more difficult and he felt the panic set in slightly as he realised that there was a chance that he might make it worse. He needed to do something, though, much longer and she would pass out through blood loss.

'Harry is so much better at this,' he heard himself mutter and then, concentrating all his energy, he drew his wand down over the cut and was delighted to see the blood slow and the edges of the cut knit together slightly. It was still pretty nasty looking, however, and he disappeared off to the bathroom to retrieve some gauze and tape from the medical box that he knew Harry kept there.

'I'm sure this isn't going to improve your confidence in me at all, but I have even less idea what I'm doing with this than I did with the spell,' he said, offering Ginevra a small smile before tearing open the packet with his teeth. By the time he finished wrapping the limb, it was twice its usual size and he had used about half a roll of tape. It looked nothing like the picture on the wrapper but the bleeding had stopped and that was all that mattered at that moment.

She looked at her arm for a long time before finally meeting Draco's eyes.

'Why didn't you take me to the hospital wing?' she asked, but there was no accusation in her tone, only curiosity.

'I don't think that you are a moron either, you know,' he confided as he gathered up the discarded items and vanished them before perching on the edge of the table. 'You knew that the best place for you was the hospital wing and yet you came here. I can only assume that there was a reason for that, one that I hope you realise you are now going to have to reveal.'

He let her think about that for a moment whilst he went to wash his hands and summon a house-elf to bring them some tea. Realising that there was no way he was going to get any more of his homework done that night, he slipped it into his bag and had just settled beside her on the sofa when Kreacher appeared with a tea tray.

He poured the tea in silence, adding four teaspoons of sugar to Ginevra's cup, remembering as he did the way his mother would always ensure a house-elf bought him a particularly sweet cup of tea after his encounters with his father and it always helped his hands to stop shaking. He held it out to her and she looked at it sceptically.

'But... I don't take sugar,' she argued, reaching out to take the cup anyway and taking a sip. She winced slightly and Draco wasn't sure if it was her arm, the heat or the sweetness that had caused it.

'You do tonight,' he insisted, fixing his own tea, adding a couple of spoons of sugar to his own cup, too; he figured that he would need the boost tonight. He folded his legs underneath him as he sank back into the cushions at the other end of the sofa, wanting to give her as much space as possible. His words were going to be confrontational enough without adding aggressive body language into the mix. Besides, she'd probably had enough of that for the evening.

'Now, who did that to you?' he asked, indicating her arm and waiting patiently for a response. It didn't come immediately. Draco could see that she was wrestling with some kind of internal debate, turning over and over in her mind what she should say, if anything at all. He could see it all reflected on her face, knew the feeling so well. It was the same feeling he'd had every time Snape had asked him where he'd gotten a particular bruise or cut. He saw the moment that she realised that she was going to have to tell someone and that it might as well be the one person who had asked.

'It wasn't his fault,' she excused quickly, and Draco smiled at her sadly. He had a feeling he knew who the 'he' was but it was her place to tell him.

'Well then, whose fault was it?' he asked, working hard to keep any note of derision from his voice.

'Mine,' she whispered. 'I shouldn't have gotten in the way.'

Draco was forced to use every ounce of restraint he could muster to stop himself from leaping from his seat and shaking her violently until she realised what she was saying. It wouldn't help, though. It had taken him years to stop accepting the blame for his father's horrific treatment of him and it was something that she would have to come to herself.

Not that he couldn't help her along a bit.

'I understand; I got in the way of a few of my father's Cruciatus curses too,' he said bitterly, surprising himself with his honesty.

'He never meant to hurt me, though,' she whined and Draco heard it, the little note of doubt. She was no longer trying to convince him; she was trying to convince herself.

'Why don't you tell me what happened?' he said kindly. 'I promise, I won't judge, say what you need to say.'

He watched as she squared her shoulders, resolved, and stared at the flames of the candles burning in their brackets.

'He was upset tonight,' she began and then seemed immediately to run out of steam.

'Zac?' Draco asked, trying to prompt her a little. He remembered how hard this was. She nodded and swallowed a few times as if she were trying to clear the words from her throat.

'Why was he upset?' Draco asked. When in doubt, go back to the start.

'He saw me talking to Dean. Dean was worried because he hadn't seen me in a while and he had his hand on my arm, trying to comfort me. Za... he, he saw us.' She took a deep breath, her resolve strengthening. 'I met him in the normal place. There's this classroom on the third floor,' she explained, glancing sideways at Draco.

He couldn't help his small smile as he realised how thankful he was that he and Harry hadn't been forced to resort to all that sneaking around.

'He was just sitting there on a desk,' she continued, and Draco noticed something new in her voice—the disbelief. She couldn't understand how someone who had professed love for her could have treated her as he did.

'He was just playing with something that kept flashing in the light. It was his Potions knife; he was just turning it over and over in his hands. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he could ask me the same question.

'I didn't understand at first. He said I had to figure out what he was angry about and I didn't know what to say. It was like he was asking me to list all the things I could have possibly done to hurt him.'

'My father used to do that,' Draco admitted, startling himself. He had not intended to tell Ginevra anything about his father but as she told her story he couldn't help but explain the reason he empathised. 'He would tell me that I was to be punished and that if I could tell him why then he would go easy on me, but as I threw out suggestions he would just add them on. The "real" reason was always so small and insignificant that there was no way I would guess.'

Something sparked in Ginevra's eyes, as thought it was the first time she was really seeing him, and he didn't regret telling her about his past for a moment because when she spoke again it was with renewed strength.

'He asked me why I was trying to hurt him. Told me that seeing me flirting with Dean was like a knife in his chest. Then he started waving the knife around. He yelled that it was all my fault, that he was going to do it and then he made to cut himself.'

Draco scowled, unable to stop himself. Not only were Smith's actions childish and attention-seeking, belittling the day to day struggles of hundreds of other people, his manipulation was crude and lacked subtlety. That was far from the point, however, and Draco scolded himself for his lack of perspective.

'The second he went to hurt himself, I reached out; it was stupid but I wanted to stop him. He got all agitated, started waving the thing about and told me that it was his right and the next thing I knew my arm was wet and burning.

'I know he didn't mean to hurt me, he apologised immediately after, told me that he never wanted to hurt me. But I wasn't sure how that was supposed to make me feel better. If this happened when he _didn't_ want to hurt me, what would happen if he ever did?' There were tears in her eyes now, her voice was cracking and Draco couldn't stop himself. He reached out and pulled her towards him and held her gently against his chest, smoothing a hand down over her hair as she cried, tears soaking through his shirt.

'I know you're confused right now, Ginevra,' he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 'But you need to accept one thing about this. It was his fault.' He swallowed heavily before continuing, allowing in the memory of a man with a sneer and grey eyes so like and yet so unlike his own.

'It was his bad choice that led to the situation. He brought the knife into the situation and he was the one that was waving it around. Yes, it was foolish to tackle him and, why oh why do we always forget our wands in these situations?' He felt rather than saw her smile at this and ploughed on. 'But the way he behaved is completely unacceptable. Do you know that?'

She nodded against his chest and he squeezed her gently.

'It's their way of controlling us, as long as we take the blame they can carry on,' he said, surprised when she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him back.

'I just don't know when we will have the time for something like that.' Hermione sounded shrill as she pushed open the door, Harry right behind her. Draco saw the moment Harry took in what he was certain must be a thoroughly bizarre scene and stop stock still in the doorway.

Immediately, Ginevra leapt away as if burnt and began blabbering, whilst Draco continued to recline against his end of the sofa.

'It's not what it looks like, Harry. We weren't doing anything, I promise.'

Harry looked past her, meeting Draco's eyes, face filled with confusion and barely-concealed amusement at the idea that Draco would be doing anything at all with a girl.

'What's happened?' he asked, becoming serious all of a sudden as his eyes rested on the heavily-bandaged limb. His gaze flicked to Draco, appealing for answers as both he and Hermione settled into chairs.

'I think this is your story to tell,' Draco said, looking at Ginevra, and he felt a little stab of pride when she squared her shoulders and launched into the story again.

XXXXX

When Ginevra got to the part where she described how Smith cut her, Harry got silently to his feet and crossed to kneel in front of her, carefully unwrapping the swaddled limb. Draco watched as he once again exposed the nasty cut and he felt his stomach flop slightly at the sight of it. It looked worse now, angry red and pinched, caked with dried blood. He watched Harry as he took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to slide out of focus as he swept his palm gently across her arm, leaving a stripe of shiny new skin in its wake.

They all sat there in silence for a moment, just staring at the place where the cut used to be. It was Hermione who broke the silence, her voice small and sad.

'How long has this been going on, Ginny?' she asked, and Draco watched as Ginevra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. They weren't going to like this answer, Draco thought. It had taken at least two years for his father's violence to become bad enough for him to actually be willing to tell someone about it and he would be surprised if Ginevra wasn't on a similar time scale.

'We got together about eighteen months ago and he was fine for the first couple of months,' she explained. 'Then he started telling me what to do, how to dress, who to hang out with.' She paused a moment, looking apologetically at Harry.

'After the war, I thought we would get back together and that I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. It's why I was so angry. I'm so sorry, Harry.'

'I wish you'd said something,' Harry mused and Draco smiled slightly as Ginevra raised her eyebrows sceptically at this situation.'

'Because that wouldn't have seemed like I was making it up, like I was just desperate for attention, would it?' she asked.

'Why put up with it for so long, though?' Hermione asked, and it sounded to Draco like she was almost pleading with Ginevra, begging with her for it not to be true.

''Why didn't _you_ mention it before, Hermione? Ginevra asked, raising her chin slightly in defiance.

'I didn't know!' Hermione wailed. 'If I had, I promise I would have done something.'

'Not me,' Ginevra scoffed. 'You.' Both Draco and Harry turned to look curiously at Hermione. 'You think I don't know how bad Ron's temper has gotten? You want me to believe you weren't terrified that whilst he was punching holes in walls, smashing up the dorm one day, his anger would be taken out on you? Why didn't you say something, Hermione?'

'I thought I could help him,' she explained. 'He's sick.'

'There's a reason we're _both_ in Gryffindor, Hermione,' Ginevra explained simply. 'Besides, there was no one to tell; you had your plate full with Ron; Ron's temper is so volatile at the moment I was frightened of what he might do, and I burned my bridges with Harry when I acted like a psycho.'

'Well, you're going to have to tell someone now,' Harry said, surprising Draco with the fierceness of his tone.

'Do we have to?' Ginevra asked nervously. 'I know it was his fault and everything,' she said quickly, shooting a sidelong look at Draco, 'but it was one incident. If I tell McGonagall, he'll be expelled, and this will follow him for years; it might even ruin his life. I don't know if I can do that to him.'

'I'm sorry about this, Gin,' Harry said, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. 'But if you don't tell her, I will.'

Draco couldn't help but wince slightly at this. He knew that Harry meant well, had a responsibility as head boy but he knew that what Ginevra needed now was to feel like she had power over her own life again. Not to just hand it off to someone else, however trustworthy they might be.

'I think you should tell her, Ginevra,' Draco said, and Harry shot him an appreciative glance. 'He obviously has a problem, and it's not going to go away simply because you aren't together anymore. He will go on, will do this again and the next person might not be as lucky as you. Remember what I said about control?' he asked, pleased when she gave a resigned nod. 'It's time for you to take control back.'

She looked at him then, eyes boring into his, looking for some kind of answer or reassurance. She must have found whatever she was looking for because she nodded again, more firmly.

'I'll tell her in the morning.'

XXXXX

She ended up spending the night on the sofa in the common room and while Harry and Hermione fussed around her a little, making sure that she was settled in, Draco slipped away to his and Harry's room. He needed some space to think a little after such an intense conversation.

His hands shook a little as he released the catch on the window and threw it open, breathing the heavy, warm air deeply into his lungs. The scent of grass and warm rain soothed him slightly as he slipped a cigarette from the packet and settled himself on the windowsill before lighting it.

He watched carefully as the shake in his hands lessened slightly with the effects of the nicotine. Unfortunately, the adrenaline was starting to wear off as well and the breaths he took were shaky as he tried to stop the slideshow that had started in his head. It had been necessary at the time to let Ginevra see how much he understood her situation, but now he was stuck with those images.

He was so immersed in his own horrific little world that he didn't hear Harry enter the room and he started slightly when his arms wrapped reassuringly around him and tugged the cigarette from his fingers. He watched as Harry raised it to his lips, taking a long drag, the end glowing brightly in the darkness before he handed it back to Draco and exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out of the window.

'I'm a bad influence on you,' Draco smirked, aiming for humour but falling short. Harry ignored the pathetic attempt at a joke and just held on to Draco.

'How're you holding up?' Harry asked.

'I'm fine,' Draco said, hoping for a moment to brush away Harry's concern. He should have known better, though; Harry had never been dissuaded that easily.

'Yeah, of course you are,' Harry said sceptically, sitting on the window sill next to him and turning his head so their eyes met. Draco shrugged; it was useless trying to hide his distress from Harry. The man could see straight through him.

'He's never going to hurt you again, Draco, you know that, right? I won't let him.'

Draco nodded as tears prickled his eyes and Harry reached up to cup his face.

'What do you need?' Harry asked. Draco allowed his half-finished cigarette to fall out of the window as he leant forward to press his lips to Harry's, desperately seeking the comfort that he knew was there.

The familiar taste of Harry mingled with flavour of tea and the smoke from his menthol cigarette was reassuring. Short kisses stretched into long ones and Draco felt himself being pushed backwards until he was reclining against the window frame, Harry's heat pressing in all around him, calming his mind.

Dextrous fingers were working open his shirt, his trousers, exposing Draco's skin, inch by agonising inch, to the fragrant night breeze coming from the still open window.

He was losing himself, allowing himself to be lost, allowing Harry to take control. One minute there was rough denim pressed against his thigh as Harry's arousal strained against his jeans, the next it had been replaced by the warm silky skin that pushed incessantly against him as Harry just kept on kissing him. Even as slick fingers pressed themselves against him, sliding inside and causing him to moan, Harry would not stop kissing him.

He moaned again at their loss but still Harry's mouth didn't leave his, even as he shifted position so that slick hardness could push forwards, filling the space that Harry's fingers had left. One of Harry's hands gripped his hip to guide his strokes as the other came up to grasp lightly at his jaw, his thumb pulling Draco's mouth open so that he could lick into his mouth as he stroked into him over and over, pushing Draco closer and closer to the edge, encouraging him to lose control as he moved against that spot deep inside over and over again.

Unable to kiss back any more, Draco just gasped as Harry's tongue continued its relentless mapping of Draco's mouth and he arched into Harry, his untouched cock spilling his release all over his stomach. Harry pushed into him once, twice more, and then he was moaning and staring into Draco's eyes, looking at him with impossibly large pupils that were surrounded by the thinnest band of intense green. Draco just stared back, so grateful in that moment for the man who had known instinctively what he wanted, even when he wasn't sure himself.

Eventually their breathing returned to normal, they realised that they were covered in rapidly cooling stickiness, and Harry shifted, cleaning them both with a lazy wave of his wand before pulling Draco to his feet and practically carrying him to the bed. He wrapped himself protectively around Draco as they both drifted off to sleep.

XXXXX

'I want Draco to come!' Ginevra's voice drifted through the open door to where he reclined lazily on the bed, scanning through a few notes for his Arithmancy class. He smiled slightly at how strange it was for a Weasley to be requesting his presence.

Casting his notes aside, he slid off the bed and made his way into the common room where the three of them were gathered. Harry stood, leaning against the fireplace, waiting impatiently and wearing what Draco liked to think of as his Achilles look, brooding, dangerous and purposeful. That look always meant trouble for someone. He was just glad that someone was no longer him. Hermione was fussing around Ginevra in the centre of the room.

'You know, you don't have to do this if you don't want to, Ginny, you can let Harry and I take care of it if you want?' Ginevra was about to say something in response when Draco decided to speak up. He knew that Hermione was only trying to help, but it was extremely counter-productive.

'She'll be fine, Hermione, she isn't a child,' Draco interjected, trying his best to sound firm without sounding harsh.

Ginevra's head snapped around at the sound of his voice and she darted across the room towards him, throwing her arms around him and encasing him in a tight hug. Alarm flared in Draco; he'd gotten better at dealing with tactile affection since he'd thrown his lot in with a bunch of Gryffindors but the suddenness and ferocity of their emotions still caught him off guard from time to time.

He glanced across at Harry, still standing by the fire looking intense and determined, but a smile threatened to break onto his face as he watched Draco smoothing his hand over the flame red hair.

Eventually, she pulled back from Draco but did not let go of him completely as she looped her arm through his and tucked herself into his side.

'Shall we go?' she asked.

XXXXX

Draco watched the professor's face carefully as Ginevra pulled back her sleeve to reveal the long pink scar that would probably always be there. She looked impossibly old and frail in that moment and Draco's heart ached for her. All this woman had ever wanted was to keep the students of Hogwarts safe and she had put up with all sorts of personal difficulties in order to ensure it. He was sure she must have felt that after the war had ended there might be something of a reprieve but still her students were getting hurt, now at the hands of each other.

'You have my assurances, Miss Weasley, that Mr Smith will be dealt with most severely,' she insisted, and Draco just about heard the slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her distress as she headed back around the desk.

'I'm concerned about you, though; I think it would be advisable for you to meet with a Healer, a Lunatrist'

Ginevra squirmed slightly in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the idea but Draco caught her eye and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

'Sure,' she agreed and Draco almost sighed with relief.

They were almost out of the office when Hermione, who was leading the way, stopped in her tracks and turned back towards the professor, her face clearly reflecting her internal struggle.

'There's something else, Professor,' Hermione blurted, and McGonagall looked up, her gaze sharp and worried.

'Yes, Miss Granger, what is it?'

They watched as Hermione fought with herself for a moment longer and then seemed to crumple slightly under an invisible weight.

'It's Ron, Professor, I think he needs some help.'


	22. Chapter 21 The Beginning

**Chapter 21**

The Beginning

_Yes, I've seen a rainbow and I've felt the rain_

_Woke up to a sunrise and I've felt the pain_

_Woke up to the sunrise, made it through the rain_

_Seen the world through your eyes, there and back again_

_I've seen it all somehow, let's just look at us now_

_We've see it all somehow, let's just look at us now_

_Just Look at Us Now – Badly Drawn Boy_

Harry inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of ink and parchment and warm dust. He trailed behind Draco and Ginny as they made their way towards the heavy oak front doors. Summer had descended on Hogwarts and the bright sunshine that poured through the high windows only made the arched stone corridors seem gloomier. He was going to miss this place so much. He couldn't deny that Grimmauld Place was his home now but this place, this castle and its grounds, were the first home he had ever known.

Of course, Draco had had something to say about that when he had expressed his fear in hushed night-time whispers.

'It's not the place that makes a home, Harry. It's the people,' he had said as they had exchanged soft kisses and reassuring touches.

Draco was frightened too, he knew. Ever since the owl had arrived with the confirmation of Harry's place at Curatio's, Draco had become predisposed to what Hermione referred to as 'fits of the sullens'. Harry thought this was a little harsh and thought of them more as moments of introspection as Draco considered what he might be able to offer the world after they left the castle for the last time.

The blazing sunshine shook Harry from his reverie as he passed through the front doors and forced his attention back to the conversation happening in front of him. He smiled as he watched the way Draco led Ginny down the front lawn with her hand tucked protectively into the crook of his elbow. So amused was he by Draco's continued mother hen act that he almost didn't notice the tall, gangly shape of Ron loping towards them across the smooth, green lawns. Harry felt himself tense and watched as Draco did too as they awaited the inevitable barbed comment.

When the only acknowledgement of their presence was a small respectful nod in their direction, Harry felt like he was back in the Tri-wizard maze, passing through a sudden reversal of ground and sky and was unaware of crossing the last hundred yards towards the beech tree where Hermione, Theo, Millie and Neville were already settled.

'What's the matter with those two?' Millie asked, directing her question at Ginny, apparently under the impression that he and Draco were too far gone to think for themselves.

'Ron,' he answered simply, dropping to the ground and tugging Draco down with him.

'What's he done now?' Hermione asked almost fearfully.

'He was polite to us,' Draco answered incredulously.

'Is there something wrong with him?' Theo asked, apparently as surprised as Harry felt.

'Yes,' Ginny said simply, her tone sad. 'McGonagall asked me to be there when she asked him to see a Lunatrist. I told him I thought he could benefit from it as well.' She paused and looked out over the lake as tears sprang into her eyes. 'I thought he would fight, disagree, say he was fine but he just looked relieved. We talked for ages. He told me about how angry he was and how there were times he thought that he might just explode. I told him about Zak and how I'd felt like I had nowhere to turn when things got bad and he just cried. He wanted me to tell you he was grateful by the way,' she added, fixing Draco with a defiant gaze. 'He wanted to thank you for being there for me when he couldn't be.'

'So he's getting help?' Hermione asked, and Harry heard the edge of hope in her voice.

'He is,' Ginny confirmed. 'The Lunatrist says it will take time but she's really hopeful.'

The group lapsed into silence, gazing as one out over the gently rippling water to where the giant squid was making the most of the last day of term and playing with a group of excitable third-years, throwing them about in the water. Harry watched as Hermione plucked anxiously at the grass, twisting it around her fingers and looking up into the rustling leaves. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she did the right thing, but he knew she wouldn't thank him for drawing attention to the regret that seemed to follow her everywhere recently, making her withdrawn and quiet. Not that this was anything unusual for Hermione during exam time but she hadn't even been revelling in the customary post-exam dissection, in which Harry would have gladly taken part if it meant that his friend was feeling better.

'Anyway!' Draco exclaimed, drawing Hermione and Ginny from their malaise. 'Someone got confirmation of their place at Curatio's this morning,' he proclaimed with obvious pride and Harry was immediately swarmed with warm congratulations as Neville, who was sitting on his other side, reached across to slap him forcefully on the back, Theo grasped his hand and shook it firmly, and Ginny launched herself at him and enveloped him in a tight hug.

Harry was a little taken aback at Draco's change of topic, as well as a little out of breath. He had been certain that Draco had been brooding about the confirmation of his plans and now he was drawing attention back to the subject and in Hermione's presence at that. Since she'd realised that Draco was without a post-Hogwarts plan she'd become a little one-note in her conversations with him and Harry had become rather adept at quick changes of subject in order to keep the peace between the two of them.

Harry's chest swelled with affection as he realised that Draco was revisiting this annoying and disquieting subject on purpose in order to distract her.

'Do you have any idea about what you want to do yet, Draco?' she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

'As a matter of fact, I have,' Draco asserted and Harry turned to look at him so quickly that he thought he might have injured his neck.

'You have?' he asked, wincing at the slight squeak of surprise in his voice. Draco raised a gently mocking eyebrow but did not draw any further attention to it.

'I have. I've applied to Curatio's. I'm just waiting to hear back.'

Harry's stomach flipped with excitement. They would be going to college together; it was perfect. Hermione, however, had other ideas.

'Oh, Draco,' she sighed and the disappointment in her voice was palpable. 'You can't base a decision like this on wanting to be near Harry, this is too important.'

'Yes, Hermione, thank you,' Draco sighed and Harry recognised _Malfoy_ in his tone. 'Funnily enough, as I'm not a twelve-year-old Hufflepuff, this had already occurred to me.'

Hermione looked rather startled and Harry felt slightly sorry for her. She'd spent the last seven years having to point out the simplest of things to him and Ron and it was taking her a little time to adjust to the fact that Draco did not appreciate having pointed out to him what he thought of as the glaringly obvious.

'Despite your vote of confidence, there is another reason for the decision. I've been giving it some serious thought and I think I would like to be a Lunatrist. I want to be able to help people like my mother.'

'Well, at least you'll have had some practice,' Ginny said, and whilst her tone was light there was a look of genuine gratitude on her face.

'I'd prefer to think of it as inspiration,' Draco said, smiling at her as Theo once again reached across the grass for the handshake that seemed to be his answer to everything.

'I knew you'd end up doing something weird like that,' he declared, grinning widely.

'It's not weird, Theo," Millie said, smacking him on the arm. "Well... maybe for a pureblood, but not really."

'No weirder than wanting to be a farmer,' Neville pointed out.

'Or a restaurateur,' Theo conceded. 'Maybe we're all a bit weird.'

Harry laughed along with the group but wasn't unaware that Hermione was yet to speak, and that Draco seemed to have noticed this, too. In fact, he was watching her closely as though waiting for her opinion, for her approval.

When she finally looked at Draco, her eyes were shiny with tears.

'I think you'll be fantastic, actually,' she said quietly. 'It's a brilliant idea.'

Draco stared at her for a moment, sharp eyes scrutinising her face for any sign that she might be humouring him, and then scrambled across the lawn on hands and knees in a very un-Malfoy-ish way, caring nothing for the grass stains on his trousers as he pulled her into a rough hug that drew a soft sound of surprise from her before her arms came up to hug him back.

As they drew apart, the sound of the bell echoed faintly across the grounds and everyone began to stumble to their feet, brushing the grass from their clothes and speculating about dinner. Suddenly ravenous, Harry made it to the Great Hall in record time and helped himself to fresh bread and a large plate of what Hermione informed him was ratatouille. Whatever is was, it was delicious, and he was happy to agree through a mouthful of food that the house-elves must have been feeling particularly adventurous that evening.

Afterwards, drawn back outside by the gentle warmth of the summer evening, Harry, Draco, and Hermione crossed the lawn together and flopped onto their backs on the cool grass, talking and watching the changing colours of the sky.

'There aren't really only four more days left, are there?' Hermione sighed. 'Someone tell me I'm imagining things.'

'You're imagining things,' Draco said helpfully and she swatted him at an awkward angle.

'I thought it'd be easier this time,' Harry admitted. 'You know, since I've already left Hogwarts once with no intention of returning... but, if anything, it's harder.'

'It's not as though we can't come back,' Hermione said, and the hope in her voice made the statement sound like an uncertain question.

'Of course we can, but we'll never be students again,' Draco pointed out.

'No... we'll be able to go into Hogsmeade whenever we choose,' Hermione said, brightening.

'Yeah, and no more sneaking around at night and hiding from Filch," Harry added.

'Speak for yourself,' Hermione said with an odd little smile, and then: 'No more Madam Pince breathing down my neck every time I want to take out a book.'

'No more uniform,' Draco offered, holding up his arm to examine his pale skin in the fading light. 'Black is absolutely not my colour.'

Laughing, Harry reached up to lace their fingers together before tugging Draco's arm back down to the grass.

'Well, if nothing else, it's never been boring,' he pointed out to murmurs of agreement from both sides.

'That's certainly true. In fact, I don't think we've had one single end-of-term feast which hasn't revolved around you two doing something stupid and/or heroic,' Draco said drily.

'Oh, shut up,' Harry mumbled, rubbing at his face with his free hand.

'I had a very quiet fourth year, actually,' Hermione said. 'Comparatively speaking, of course. But I more than made up for in it my fifth... breaking into the Ministry, apprehending Death Eaters, destroying priceless artefacts, riding on invisible horses...'

'That's a point,' Draco interrupted, propping himself up on one elbow. 'I never understood what you Gryffindors liked so much about those Care of Magical Creatures lessons – they were always either tedious or terrifying.'

Harry snorted. 'Don't think I don't remember you swaggering around with that sling on, forcing other people to cut up your daisy roots for you.'

'To be fair, some of Hagrid's favourites weren't exactly the most child-friendly of creatures,' Hermione admitted, frowning at the memory.

'Blast-ended Skrewts,' Harry and Draco murmured as one, and for several seconds silence fell over the little group under the trees.

'We should probably have realised at the end of first-year that we were unlikely to have a normal school experience,' Hermione said thoughtfully after a moment.

'After Quirrell, you mean?' Draco said. 'We all thought that was just a rumour at first, especially the part about Weasley and the giant chess set... that said, I've seen him play since then and I have to concede that he has a talent for the game.'

Harry held his breath and kept his eyes on the sky. Draco had broken the unspoken rule – don't mention Ron – and there was no telling how Hermione was going to react now that it was just the three of them. For what seemed like a long time, she said nothing.

Finally, she sighed. 'I do still love him, you know.'

'I know,' Harry said simply.

'He can't even look at me at the moment. He's so angry, and I know I betrayed his trust. I do feel guilty about that, but what else could I have done? All I can do is keep telling myself that I did the right thing for him,' she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'He'll come around,' Draco said suddenly.

She turned her head to look at him. 'What makes you say that?'

'I might not be any kind of expert on him, Hermione, but it's blindingly obvious that he still cares about you. He may be angry but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you. The two of you were meant for each other,' Draco said, shrugging. 'It's inevitable.'

Hermione granted him a grateful smile and gazed up into the leaves.

'They say these are the best days of our lives,' Draco mused, wrinkling his nose.

'It hasn't been all bad,' Harry pointed out gently, squeezing his hand.

'No,' Draco agreed. 'It's been home.'

Harry smiled and then frowned, pensive. 'There have been things I could've done without. The war, maybe. Divination. Cannock.'

Beside him, Draco scowled. Harry gripped his hand more tightly.

'I doubt you'll ever have to see him again,' Hermione said.

'Yeah,' Harry sighed. 'Part of me wishes I could stick him in a full body-bind and tell him exactly what I think of him, but then I think I'd rather never have to look at his smug face ever again.'

'You won, Harry,' Hermione said, fingertips pressing against his arm briefly. 'In every way that matters, anyway.'

Harry glanced at her. 'Over Cannock?'

She laughed, eyes never leaving the pink and orange sunset. 'Over everything.'


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Six Months Later

_I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance  
Never settle for the path of least resistance  
Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin'  
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin'  
Don't let some hellbent heart leave you bitter  
When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider  
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance  
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
I hope you dance  
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along)  
I hope you dance  
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder, where those years have gone?)_

_I Hope You Dance – Lee Ann Womack_

'I have nothing to wear,' Draco says despondently.

Next to him, Harry lets out a snort of disbelief. 'You have three wardrobes full of clothes. I'm sure there's _something_ in one of them that you can wear.'

Draco turns to look at Harry, who is flopping, fully-dressed, on his back on the bed. He is all ready with a snippy response when he notices how tired Harry looks, and instead he abandons his clothes and sits on the edge of the bed.

'You look tired.'

'Yeah, well, keeping up with all those kids is no mean feat, especially when they're cooped up in the hospital over Christmas. I don't know how the qualified Healers and nurses handle it all the time.'

Draco steeples his fingers and gazes calmly down at Harry, addressing him with his special 'understanding' voice. 'And how does that make you feel?'

Harry groans and Draco doesn't have time to duck before the pillow comes flying into his face, and he probably deserves it, but at least Harry is smiling now.

'You look better already... but that still doesn't solve my clothing crisis,' he says.

'The green one,' Harry says without even looking up.

Draco sighs. 'The green what?'

'The green whatever.'

Draco shakes his head and gets up, walking back to the open wardrobe and selecting a dark green shirt that goes rather well with the trousers he is already wearing. As he slides his arms into it, Harry gets to his feet and heads for the door.

'Ah, good. You managed to unearth something,' he says with a crooked smile. 'I'm going to check on the dinner.'

Draco nods, silently buttoning up his shirt and adding cufflinks. When he's finished, he looks at his reflection in the mirror and sighs. He looks nervous. And he is, at least a little bit. Despite everyone's best intentions, tonight is the first time the whole group has been together since the last day of school. Draco and Harry have seen Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Millie and Theo in various combinations over recent months but everyone's new work and study schedules have meant that a proper reunion has been a long time coming.

Not only that, he thinks as he leaves the bedroom and goes downstairs to join Harry, tonight brings with it an unknown factor, because Hermione is bringing Ron along with her. She had told them several weeks ago that she and Ron were trying to work things out and they had quickly agreed to include him in their new year celebrations, but the unknown has always made Draco anxious.

'I want to say that he'll be fine but I just don't know how it's going to be,' Harry admits. 'We're just going to have to wait and see.'

Draco opens his mouth to respond and Harry shoves a spoonful of something aromatic and spicy into it. This is not the first time he has been ambushed for a tasting of something new and it won't be the last, so he just chews, swallows, and nods.

'Very nice.'

'Thai green curry,' Harry pronounces, stirring the steaming pan.

Draco glances at the book on the counter and smiles. He has taken to buying recipe books for Harry because Harry likes them, and because he makes things from them that Draco then gets to eat, which is, as far as he's concerned, a win-win situation. This book, dedicated to curries, was a Christmas present, and it is somehow already splattered with sauce and other assorted food stains.

Impulsively, Draco grabs Harry's wrist and pulls him into a kiss.

'Mind the curry,' Harry mumbles but he doesn't seem to mind, holding his dripping spoon out of the way and returning the kiss eagerly.

When the fire whooshes they pull apart and Draco steps back, embarrassed, when he sees Andie's face in the flames.

'Don't look so worried, Draco, I just wanted to wish you a happy new year before it gets too late; I doubt I'll be staying up until midnight,' she says, and Draco relaxes slightly. 'Besides, there's someone here who wants to say hello.'

She withdraws, and when Teddy's face appears, crowned by a shock of vivid purple hair, Draco glances at Harry, who has abandoned his curry to grin at the little boy with such delight that Draco can't help grinning, too.

'Hello, young man,' Harry says. 'You're up late.'

'Happy nooyear Unca Hay... Unca Day,' he says solemnly, nose wrinkled in concentration.

'Happy new year to you, too, Ted,' Harry says. 'Have you been practicing?'

'He has,' Andie confirms, head reappearing above Teddy's. 'He's very chatty at the moment.'

'No,' Teddy says firmly, and Harry laughs.

At the sound of knocking somewhere above them, Draco leaves Harry to chat and heads up the stairs to answer it. He opens the door to find a shivering Millie, who smiles at him and then darts into the house, and a confident-looking Neville, who seems to glow with health despite the cold and pushes a bottle of wine into Draco's hands before he takes his coat off.

'Hi, Harry,' he says as the three of them enter the kitchen to find that Harry has finished his conversation and has now returned to paying careful attention to his curry, which is already filling the house with its delicious scent. 'I heard Ron was coming... do you think he will?'

Harry turns. 'I don't know. I hope so. I've made plenty of food just in case.'

Neville grins. 'I hope so, too.'

'So do I,' Draco says. 'I don't want to still be eating the same Thai green curry in February.'

Harry rolls his eyes and turns back to his cooking. Minutes later, Draco is called back to the door to let in Theo, who smells of his restaurant and is carrying an intriguing-looking dessert, and then again for Ginny, who is sporting a new short haircut that is admired by all.

By the time the next knock comes, everyone is chatting easily, glasses in hands, and an odd sort of hush seems to fall over the group as they exchange anxious glances. They all know, just as Draco does, that the real test of the night is upon them. He might be feeling a little bit dramatic about the whole thing, but it certainly doesn't help when Theo starts to whistle an ominous tune as Draco heads for the stairs.

The first thing he notices when he opens the door is that Ron looks just as nervous as Draco feels, but Hermione doesn't give him much time to think about it as she envelops him in a firm, no-nonsense hug and asks him if he had a nice Christmas.

'Wonderful,' he says vaguely, glancing at Ron over her shoulder and noticing that not only does he look nervous, he looks _well_. He steps back to let them inside and they follow him down to the kitchen in silence. 'Did you have a nice Christmas?' Draco throws out just as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

'A bit manic... nothing out of the ordinary for our family,' Ron says.

Draco doesn't turn but his steps feel lighter as he walks into the kitchen, knowing that the ice is beginning to break, and the warm faces that greet Ron and Hermione just bolster the creeping suspicion that things are going to be alright. Harry grins at his friend, uncertainty melting away, and Draco almost wants to turn and hug Ron for making him look so happy.

'Something smells good,' Ron ventures.

Harry's grin widens. 'You're just in time – everything's nearly ready.'

XXXXX

'This feels so grown up,' Hermione says for what Draco thinks must be the fifteenth time since they sat down at the table.

'You say that, Hermione, and yet Ron still eats like a teenager,' Ginny points out.

Draco suppresses a smile at Ron's small sound of protest because he has apparently not yet noticed the smear of curry that has somehow made it into his left eyebrow.

'You should be used to that, eating with those Gryffindors every day,' Theo says, sipping his wine. 'Just think, six more months and you'll be back in the civilised world.'

Ginny sighs. 'I don't know... I'm starting to understand what you guys went through this summer because I'm terrified of leaving Hogwarts.'

'Do you know what you want to do when you leave?' Millie asks.

'Well,' Ginny says, twisting her napkin on her lap, 'I haven't told anyone about this yet – not even Mum and Dad – but I've been approached by a scout for the Holyhead Harpies and I'm thinking about—'

'That's brilliant!' Ron interrupts, and Draco is interested to note that he actually puts his fork down. 'I can't believe you didn't say anything sooner. When do you start?'

'I'm still thinking about it,' Ginny admits. 'I don't want to rush into a decision.'

'I think that's very wise,' Draco says. 'Being a professional athlete is a risky business. It only takes one injury to ruin a career, and it's not as though it's something you can do for a lifetime.'

'Yeah,' Ron says reluctantly. 'But still... we'd never have to pay for tickets again!'

'Trust you to focus on what's really important,' Hermione says, but they smile at each other.

Harry, who has been staring into his glass for the last few minutes, looks up at Ron with careful curiosity, and Draco thinks he knows what is coming next.

'So, what's your big plan, then?' he says boldly.

Ron blinks. 'Er... I'm not sure I've got a big plan. Nothing like professional Quidditch or Healing or any of the kind of stuff you lot are up to. I've just been trying to focus on getting... on seeing the Lunatrist,' he says with an awkward cough, and Draco thinks he sees Hermione's hand wrap around his under the table. 'Spending time with Mum and Dad and helping George out in the shop. Helping Hermione with her homework,' he says with a grin.

'I really don't need any help with my assignments,' Hermione says nervously.

Ron joins in the ripple of soft laughter around the table and nudges her with his shoulder. 'Of course she doesn't, but the stuff she brings home is pretty interesting. I thought I might try and get into the MLE next year.'

'Don't do it,' Theo teases. 'The Ministry will steal your soul!'

Ron grins. 'I'll risk it.'

'I can see you doing that,' Ginny says. 'I think it's a good thing that you decided not to apply for Auror training in the end.'

Draco lifts an eyebrow, watching as Ron shoots Ginny the kind of 'well, thanks for that' look that seems particular to brothers and sisters.

'I didn't know you were still thinking about it,' Harry admits.

'Yeah, well, it was a bit of a stupid dream. I had to let go of it.'

'It wasn't stupid,' Hermione says fiercely.

'She's right,' Neville puts in. 'It's not stupid to have a dream, even if you never do anything about it.'

Ron wrinkles his nose and starts poking at his food with his fork again. 'I don't know. Thing is, being an Auror was all I ever really wanted to do, but after everything... the Lunatrist says it'd be too stressful and she's right. I don't like it, but it's true.'

Draco bites his lip. The urge to respond is almost overwhelming – his training has already given him so many insights into dilemmas just like this – but he says nothing, doubting that Ron will want to hear those insights from him.

'My cousin works for the Auror office,' Millie says, and Draco glances at her, surprised. 'He's been off with stress so many times and he has the most horrible nightmares because of some of the cases he's been on. You've probably made the right decision.'

'Thanks,' Ron says, sounding even more astonished than Draco feels. It suddenly occurs to him that Ron and Millie have barely spoken to one another before tonight, and if she can offer her advice then he can damn well offer his.

'Realising that you cannot do something that's so important to you is very difficult,' he says, forcing himself to continue even when all eyes turn to him. 'It is also very brave. You should be proud of yourself.'

Ron meets his eyes for a split second and then looks down at his plate, embarrassed.

'That's... er... good of you to say,' he mumbles, flushing violently. 'So... Harry... how's your training going?'

Draco smiles and helps himself to more sticky rice as Harry leaps in to cover Ron's discomfort with stories of life at Curatio's. He's heard them all before, but there's something rather comfortable about the familiarity, and by the time Harry pauses for breath, everyone has finished eating and the atmosphere in the room is relaxed and convivial.

'So, by the time I'd got all the cows to the top of the hill, it was midday and the sun was pounding down and sticking my shirt to my back, burning my face, but I didn't care, because all I had to do was get them into the barn, and then...' Neville pauses to gulp at his wine, so caught up in the telling of his story that Draco can almost see him on that hilltop, surrounded by recalcitrant cattle. 'And then this _dog_ appeared out of nowhere, started running around and barking, and all the cows scattered and ran back down the shitting hill,' he finishes.

'And did you get them into the barn?' Ginny asks, snorting with laughter and scraping raspberry sauce from her empty dessert plate.

Beside Neville, Millie shakes her head slowly.

'I had two more tries and then they had to send for this weird man who can make a noise like a fly,' Neville admits. 'It happens a lot, apparently. They moved when they heard that, believe me.'

'I've had my fair share of weird men,' Theo says airily.

Ron turns to look at him, eyes wide, and Harry splutters and snorts wine out of his nose. Draco says nothing but reaches over to pat him firmly on the back.

'I meant in the restaurant,' Theo sighs.

'Not better,' Ginny murmurs, smirking.

'Behave. So, I have the man who comes in every Friday and refuses to say anything but the word 'meat',' Theo begins.

'MEAT!' bellow Neville and Millie as one. 'I've seen him,' Neville adds. 'He has a very large beard.'

'He does. And the other week, an old man came up to me when I was covering for the maître d' and insisted that he should get his meal for free because he was the owner's father.'

'What did you say to him?' Draco asks.

Theo grins. 'Nothing at first. Then I flung myself at him and wailed, 'DADDY!' He decided to pay for his meal and leave after that. Strange, really.'

Draco grins, watching Harry laugh helplessly into his hands. At his other side, Ginny is almost choking on her drink having taken a sip at exactly the wrong time.

'If you think your customers are stranger than my patients, you'd better think again,' Draco says. 'In fact, never mind the patients, the Lunatrists themselves need all the help they can get.'

'I can believe that,' Ron says. 'Mine's out of her tree. I mean, she's brilliant, but she's barmy.'

Draco nods. 'They're all like that. And not a single one of them can take notes that make sense. I've had to familiarise myself with all the patients' files and some of them...' He shakes his head. 'I've been sitting in with a patient this week who apparently 'has no past history of suicides' but the notes of the Lunatrist in charge also say 'she has been depressed ever since she started seeing me in 1991', which isn't exactly a gleaming endorsement.'

'Oh, I've got loads of those,' Harry laughs. 'Healer Carson and I had to follow up with a patient who had apparently 'left the hospital alive but without permission'! We weren't really sure what we were going to find.'

'You know,' Millie says amidst the giggling that follows, 'I have stories, too. If I was allowed to tell you my stories, I promise you that they would trump every single one of yours.'

'Well then, you're just a tease,' Draco declares, uncorking a new bottle of wine. Millie smiles.

'I don't know,' Harry says thoughtfully. 'I think this one is pretty unbeatable.'

'That's fighting talk,' says Neville.

'It is,' Harry says solemnly. 'This was right at the beginning of term when we'd just started going to St Mungo's one day a week to get experience with the practical side of things – you know, cleaning up, dispensing potions, talking to the patients – I was in the Trauma ward and this couple came in. The woman seemed okay but the man was unconscious and had a nasty head wound. I had to talk to them and get their details and it turned out that they'd been doing a bit of... um... role-playing."

Somebody makes a mock-scandalised sound but Draco doesn't turn to see who; he is enjoying the redness creeping up the side of Harry's neck too much, and besides, he knows exactly what is coming.

'So the woman was on the bed, pretending she needed rescuing, and the man had decided to get on top of the wardrobe and jump down to save her before they... anyway, he misjudged the jump and hit his head on the bedside cabinet.'

'Ooh, nasty,' Hermione says, wincing.

'And embarrassing,' Ginny adds.

'And?' Draco prods, nudging Harry's knee with his own.

Harry sighs. 'And he was dressed up.'

An expectant silence falls over the table.

'As what?' Neville asks eventually.

'As me.'

For the briefest moment, no one makes a sound, and then the room explodes into laughter.

'Did he look like you?' Theo splutters.

'Not really. But he had a scar drawn on his forehead in lipstick,' Harry admits, grinning sheepishly.

'Mate... that's... well, now I'm picturing it. Thanks,' Ron says, trying to frown and laugh at the same time.

'Why would anyone—' Neville begins and then thinks better of it.

'I suppose we'll have to call it a draw,' Millie says distractedly, craning her neck to gaze out of the window. 'Look – fireworks!'

Everyone looks, and sure enough, the dark sky is being lit by showers of coloured sparks and the sounds of muffled cracks and bangs surround the house.

'Did we miss midnight?' someone asks, and Draco turns to look at the clock in the corner.

'Technically yes, but I suppose it's still midnight for another few seconds,' he says.

'Come on,' Harry urges, picking up his glass and hurrying for the door, and everyone follows him up to the roof garden, where they stand and shiver and taste the winter air as the fireworks shimmer above them.

'Happy new year, everyone,' Hermione says, raising her glass, and one by one, everyone follows suit.

'To absent friends,' Harry adds, and Draco toasts him, turning his eyes up to the sky and thinking of his mother, of Pansy, of Dumbledore. When he sneaks a glance at Harry, his shiny eyes and determined expression tell a similar story.

'Are you okay? Harry says, almost in a whisper, when their eyes meet.

Draco hesitates for a moment, looking around at his friends and feeling his heart fill. He has fought, he has lost, he has made terrible mistakes, and somehow he has managed to find himself in the right place with the right people. He grabs Harry's hand and tangles their cold fingers together.

'I really am.'

The End


End file.
